


Blue Jello

by negickapologist (neganstonguething)



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Cruise Ships, Eventual Sex, Fluff, M/M, Parties, Seasickness, Vomiting, a less murderous negan, a little bit of a made up backstory, no zombies, probably going to add more as the chapters go, sappy as fuck yall, sappy negan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-09-21 13:19:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 72,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9550790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neganstonguething/pseuds/negickapologist
Summary: Negan's dragged onto a cruise ship by his best friend, where he runs into a man from Georgia who's kind enough to lend him a hand when he's in need. Of course, he milks it for all it's worth, and he supposes that if it were anyone else, he'd have probably been left on his ass by now. But Rick...he's something else.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi again!
> 
> I planned and planned and planned this thing for days, but when I couldn't decide that any path was good enough, I decided to just wing it. Hopefully, that doesn't end up biting me in the ass in the end. Rest assured, I know what I want to happen, but the filler in between's all up to what my mind comes up with on the fly.
> 
> This fic was inspired by a small part in sinners0prayer's fic "Lucky Like a Black Cat" (AMAZING READ, BY THE WAY), wherein Negan gets seasick on a cruise. Go read their work, it's fantastic!
> 
> Anywho, I hope you all find this enjoyable!

Negan hates boats.

And ships.

Basically any stupid fucking goddamned buoyant devices people are idiotic enough to hop onto and sail right out into the middle of the ocean. Humans aren't made to be out there. There's no fucking way they are. Or at least, that's what Negan's mind keeps telling him as he sits with the latter half of his body doubled over the rail, trying to decide if he's going to hurl or not. It pisses him off that he's seemingly the only person on the party deck looking like this right now, but he also imagines it's because he has yet to work up the gumption to make his way down to his stateroom, where it's a lot less noisy and a generally better environment for puking your intestines up.

The water in Galveston Island isn't exactly gorgeous, though, and from the way the ship is still kicking up dirt a mile out from the dock, Negan figures what he's depositing into the water isn't nearly as bad as other things that have probably made their way down there. His biggest concern is the people on the lower decks, because he really doesn't feel like being the guy who barfed on someone from all the way up on the Lido deck.

Honestly, the only thing keeping Negan here, hunched over the side of a fourteen-story cruise ship, is the fear that if he backs away, he's going to have to deal with the embarrassment of yarking all over the Lido deck's floor and have to explain his seasickness to one of the workers, who will probably wonder why in the fuck he's on a cruise ship if he knows he's gonna be sick the whole time.

In his defense, this isn't entirely by choice. Simon, that asshole, has dragged him along because he's apparently been reverting back to being that mopey douche canoe he was after Lucille's death. Negan doesn't remember being that way as of late, but apparently, Simon's seen it and he's 'not putting up with that shit anymore', and he seems to think a five-day cruise to and from Cozumel, Mexico is the best way to remedy that.

There's a reason Negan and Simon are best friends. Negan's a pretty turbulent guy, and his moods and decisions are often impulsive and unpredictable. Simon's not quite so capricious, but he's headstrong and somehow knows exactly how to counteract basically everything about Negan, so he's one of the few people who've managed to get in there close enough to Negan to stick around for more than just a matter of days or weeks, or hours...or seconds. Whatever.

In any case, his ass has decided that Negan's ass needs a vacation, so both of their asses are on a goddamned boat right now, and Simon's off doing fuck-all with not a trace of nausea to deal with. That fucker's probably down on the lower level of the deck, jamming his stupid ass off with a bunch of half-naked girls dancing around him.

Dickbag.

The boat isn't even swaying that much, honestly. The structure is big enough that most of the movement goes unnoticed, and they haven't even gotten out onto the open ocean yet. What's getting to Negan is that the ship has gone from stationary to pumping its way out onto the sea, and something about the subtle force there has him wishing he'd thought about seasickness before stepping foot onto what would be his home for five whole goddamned days.

They sell dramamine in the gift shop downstairs, but much like his own stateroom, Negan has to somehow _get_ there. Experimentally, he braces both hands atop the guardrail and pushes himself upright. Gravity and velocity seem to be against him right now, though, and Negan flops back down when his stomach lurches again, swallowing down a lesson in trajectory that's threatening to force its way up from his belly.

“You gotta be shitting me.” He groans.

How long does seasickness last? Are there breaks in between if the boat isn't stopping? Is Negan going to be forced to lounge out here on Lido deck on one of those deck chairs until the boat docks in Mexico? God, he fucking hopes not. Believe it or not, the amenities the cruise has to offer all sound pretty damned amazing, Negan's reluctance to board the ship aside, and it'll be a real fucking disgrace if he can't actually enjoy them.

Plus, he'd never hear the end of it from Simon, who paid over a grand to drag his ass onto this damned thing.

At the very least, if Negan's going to hurl, he won't hear it over the music blaring across the entirety of Lido deck. From the sound of it, the DJ is taking the partiers on the dance floor through about every line dance they've ever done in high school, and the current stop is the Casper Slide. This kind of fucks Negan up, because sliding to the left and sliding to the right and hopping all sound like things this boat might do if the waves get particularly crazy, and he feels like gagging just thinking about it.

Okay, okay, this is bullshit. Enough pussyfooting around. Negan knows he's either gonna be sick or he's not, and at this point, there's no telling when or where it might happen. If he has the choice though, it's going to be in his stateroom, where he can lie down on his bed afterward and sleep off the discomfort. So, all that in mind, he needs to get the fuck off the ass of this fucking ship and get back to his room, where he doesn't stick out like a sore thumb.

And if he happens to run into Simon on the way, he's sending the guy off to get some dramamine.

The music shifts from the Casper Slide to Zoot Suit Riot, and Negan decides he really needs to get the fuck off of this deck now. He's upright, ignoring the turning in his stomach, and pivots to make his way down the stairs off to his right. So far, so good. He still feels like he could lose his lunch any second, but the movement of the boat doesn't feel as dramatic while he's walking.

The stairs take him down half a level, and he immediately passes through the lower half of the Lido deck to get to the elevators. They're cripplingly small for the amount of passengers on the ship, and when Negan rushes in, people billow in afterward like smoke to the fire he probably lit while beelining here. He probably looks green, and when people start staring at him, he finds himself growing irritable. They're on water, for fuck's sake. Surely, they've seen someone get seasick before.

And then it occurs to him that they're waiting to know what floor he wants. “...Six. Fuckin'...six.” He croaks, before he rolls his head back and braces against the wall. These people smell like the saltwater from the pool, and like lemonade and soda, and Negan's stomach churns uncomfortably at the assault on his senses. By the time they get to the sixth deck, where staterooms await, Negan is out in nothing flat.

A stranger stops him—a small woman with graying hair and a timid smile on her face. Her grip on his arm defies the shy look, however, and Negan feels compelled by the hold alone to regard her, even though he's feeling worse by the second. It doesn't help that the decks with staterooms are all made up of thin hallways and the carpets are patterned with the swirliest looking blue and green shit Negan's ever seen.

“You look like you could use these.” The woman says politely, using her free hand to hold up the tiniest of ziploc bags. In the bag are a handful of foil packages that kind of resemble small condom wrappers. Negan cocks an eyebrow, and the woman catches his confusion and explains posthaste. “They're seasickness patches. My daughter, she insisted I go to the doctor and ask for some. This isn't my first time on one of these ships, though, and I don't think I get seasick. You, however, look like you're miserable.”

“That noticeable, huh?” Negan questions, leaning back against the wall outside the elevator. He finds that if he closes his eyes, the rolling in his stomach subsides, even if briefly. “You always go handing your prescriptions out to poor fuckers like me?”

“If you could see your complexion,” the woman seems virtually unharmed by Negan's borderline accusation, “you'd understand. Just put one behind your ear. They don't fall off in the shower, and they're supposed to last three days.”

“Uh huh.” Negan opens his eyes to see the woman still smiling at him, and he can't help the chuckle that escapes his lips, even if his stomach kind of regrets it afterward. “Well, uh, thanks....” He rolls his wrist and draws out the last word, hoping to get a name out of the woman.

“Carol.” She answers, and Negan can tell she gets some sort of satisfaction out of him taking the patches from her. Stranger danger, anyone? “And of course. I'm on this same floor, so I'm sure we'll run into each other again. Take care, you.” She pats Negan's shoulder and then disappears off down the hall.

Deck six looks empty as fuck once the aforementioned Carol is gone, and Negan almost feels like he's just run into a ghost. Wouldn't that be something, finding out the deck you're sleeping on is haunted by the spirit of a woman who seeks out the seasick and offers them tiny condom wrappers with the solution to seasickness nestled inside? Maybe she's the guardian spirit of the carpet or some shit. A la 'don't you dare throw up on my carpet, you little shit, or I'll haunt your ass every single one of these five days' or some bullhockey like that.

Negan glances down at the package in his hand, and softly 'huh's to himself, before a slight shift in the boat's movement reminds him that they're out on the water, and he's back to half-sprinting for his stateroom.

The collision happens so quickly that Negan doesn't see it coming. One minute, he's digging his key card out of his pocket, and the next, he's colliding abruptly into something. And apparently, the two forces are both in aggressive forward motion, because the impact is rough enough that it sends Negan reeling backward, stumbling a few steps, before he braces himself against one of the walls of the narrow hallway. The patches fall out of his hand and hit the ground, but Negan doesn't notice, because his hand is suddenly on his forehead and he's trying desperately not to empty his stomach right on the shitty-swirly carpet in front of him, especially now that he knows there's someone somewhere in his general vicinity.

“I know this hall's fucking virgin-thin, but _damn_...” Negan curses, and he finally braves looking up and seeing just who the other half of their accident is, and then he's gawking like a fucking dumbass, because _ho-lee shit_ , there's no way a set of eyes could ever be that blue.

The body the impossibly blue eyes are attached to is perched on its ass, gawking right back up at Negan. He notices that this person looks just as out of place as he feels, dressed in a button-up and slacks, while Negan himself is sporting his favorite leather jacket and dark pants. This man has curly hair that he's somehow managed to comb back into a semi-tame look, and he has a fierce jawline, mouth hanging open as he stares up at Negan.

The words fall from his mouth before he can stop himself. “...Well, hello there, Blue Eyes...”

The man frowns. “Excuse me?” He dusts himself off and starts working his way to his feet.

“Too late.” Negan corrects, even though he knows full well what the guy's referring to. “That's something you should've said before you decided to crash right the fuck into me.”

He watches the man pick up the package he'd dropped during the incident, and it's astonishing that the guy offers it out to him without a second thought. “You ran into me, too.”

Negan's stomach takes that moment to turn again, and Negan realizes that oh, fuck, he's really going to be sick this time. His stateroom is still a ways down the path, though, and this isn't a 'sprint to the bathroom' kind of moment. It's a 'tilt your head so you don't yark all over everything in sight' type of thing, and that's just what Negan does.

This is a prime example of a good time for Blue Eyes to get his happy ass the fuck out of Dodge, but for some reason, the dude stays rooted to the spot and just _watches_ Negan hurl on the carpet in front of him. Of all the people to puke in front of, Negan can't shake the thought that this guy is the last one he wishes it would be.

“Shit...” The man says, and Negan looks up at him just in time to see him laugh. “...The getup you're wearin', I'd have never pegged you as the type to get motion sickness.”

As he hiccups and spits onto the ground, Negan notices an accent in this guy's voice. Alabama, or Georgia or something. In any case, he narrows his eyes up at the man _still_ standing here. “Shut the fuck up, asshole. Just...help me put this shit on.” He doesn't remember actually taking the patches back from this guy, but he extends them once more out to him regardless.

Once the guy takes them, he motions for him to follow further down the hall. He feels a little uncomfortable leaving the mess on the ground for someone to just happen upon, but he figures maybe he can call room service once the patch is in place and get it squared away. Right now, he wants to get this shit on before he's sick to his stomach and barfs in front of any other blue-eyed beauties today. Hadn't Simon suggested he try to get laid during this cruise? Kinda hard to do that when you're struggling to get your sea legs.

“You're supposed to put those on a couple hours before the ship sets sail.” Blue Eyes says, and Negan shrugs as he stops in front of his door and withdraws his key card from his pocket.

“My goddamned mistake. Trust me, I'm regretting the shit out of it, but all I give a fuck about right now is getting the thing on and being able to function for the next five days. So,” he unlocks the door and pushes it open, stepping inside, “Help me with it so I can get to the fun part of this cruise.”

Negan notices that the guy hasn't followed him into the room. He's stopped at the doorway, both hands resting on either side of it.

“You're not gonna feel better for a couple hours, you know. Takes a while for that stuff to seep in.” The man cocks an eyebrow. “Didn't your doctor tell you this stuff?”

“I'm a shitty listener.” Negan lies, because it's easier than telling him about the might-be-ghost named Carol, and then he goes into the bathroom to wash his mouth out. Once satisfied, he takes a seat on the queen-size bed that takes up a good portion of his stateroom. Thankfully, Simon went the extra mile with a balcony room, so he has somewhere to get fresh air if he needs it. He notices the guy's still standing in the doorway. “Oh, come on—if I wanted to fuck you up for running into me, I'd have already done it. Get your ass in here and help me.”

Negan sees something flicker in the guy's sharp gaze, but he complies regardless. A shrug pries his hands off of the doorway and he ascends the two stairs leading into the stateroom, shutting the door behind him. With some hesitation, he takes a seat on the bed next to Negan. He clears his throat.

“You gotta lie down or somethin'.”

Even though Negan still feels like shit, he's apparently doing well enough that his mouth is almost back to its normal level of functionality. No surprise there, considering he's operated on monster hangovers more than his fair share of times before. Either way, he smirks a little. “Well, fuck me, Blue Eyes, but if you're gonna court me, at least give me your name first.”

The man shoves Negan, shooting an icy glare up at him that makes him shudder. “You're taller than me. It'll be easier for me to see this way.”

“Joking, joking.” Negan raises both hands in a gesture of mock-surrender. “Jesus shit, man. I'd still like your name, though.” He flops over until he's lying sideways on the bed. “I mean, I blow chunks right in front of you, and then still somehow manage to cart your candy ass in here to keep me company with this shit, and—“

“Never said I was keepin' you company.” The guy looks confused, but then Negan sees something akin to a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he leans in close and gets to work. “Rick. Rick Grimes.”

Negan feels the soft pressure of a gel-like substance against the skin behind his earlobe, and the sudden cold in contrast with this Rick guy's warmth makes his breath catch in his throat. He ignores it. “You're not gonna leave me to be miserable in here for some indefinite shitstorm of hours until this thing works. No fucking way. Besides, I didn't see a plus one following you around in that hallway, so it's not like you got somewhere to be.”

Rick sits back, satisfied with his work, and rolls his eyes. “I'm not the company you want.”

“Oh, yes you are.” Negan laughs and turns onto his back so that he can look up at his visitor. “Who in the fuck makes fun of a guy while he's sick? You are literally the only guy I can picture being in here right now, because you're the only guy stupid enough to follow the dumbass who just lost his lunch right in front of you into his stateroom and not even get his name. It's Negan, by the way.”

“Negan?” Rick raises a single eyebrow. “Are you a greaser?”

Negan sits up, but when his stomach churns, he flops right the fuck down and closes his eyes. “Fuck you for that, Rick Grimes. Fuck you for stereotyping.” It's actually pretty funny, though, and once Negan's sure he's not about to be sick again, he laughs. “No, I'm not a goddamned greaser. I'm just Negan. So, you gonna stay or what?”

He's got his eyes masked behind the forearm of his jacket, so he doesn't see Rick's reaction. Instead, he just hears his voice. “...How long?”

Negan lifts his arm away from his eyes and both his eyebrows raise up. “Excuse the fuck out of me, Rick, but I know I'm not boring you.” He sees Rick shrug. “Just figured you'd hang around long enough for me to feel like standing upright again and then I'll make it up to you with some primo alcohol. Like, not the cheap shit, and it'll all be on me.” Or, well, on Simon. All of this is coming out of his bank account, after all.

“You just threw up and you want to go drinking?” Rick looks utterly confused, but he's laughing again, and Negan's rapidly becoming aware of the fact that he likes that laugh. “You've gotta work on your priorities, Negan.”

But Negan gets his way. Rick rolls his eyes and then settles himself better onto the bed, finding a spot lying down next to Negan on his back.

Negan hopes Rick knows he's got himself a buddy for the duration of the cruise, now.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day one of the five-day cruise commences. Drinks happen, and fun is had. The seeds of flirtation are sown, and the ride begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, this chapter covered a lot! I hope y'all enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it! Learning real quick that writing romance into five days on a cruise ship is actually pretty challenging, even if it's supposed to be a kind of flingy-type thing. 
> 
> Just a couple little things you might be curious about--I wrote the dance scene with these songs and their choreography in mind:  
> https://youtu.be/qJaTxaulAMo  
> https://youtu.be/4TnUePIxP8I  
> These guys are amazing, you should support the hell out of them!
> 
> Anywho, enjoy!

Bless Carol and her random, ghostly appearances.

Negan feels a whole world better after several hours lying in bed. He doesn't remember falling asleep, but he feels like a newborn fawn learning to walk as he sits upright and adjusts to the movement of the ship once more. No matter the size of the boat, he can definitely feel the gentle swaying of the thing on the open water. But with the motion sickness patch safely on his skin and a little extra sleep under his belt, Negan doesn't mind it. It feels much more subtle now that his stomach isn't in knots and lurching every five seconds.

He's about to get up off the bed when his fingers brush against the unmistakable softness of skin, and he remembers he'd dragged an accomplice to bed with him.

“Oh shit, you actually stayed...” Negan's astonished that Rick is still here even as he pulled a dick move and fell asleep with the guy present. But what surprises him even more is the fact that Rick is fast asleep, too. For acting all uncomfortable and shit, he sure looks peaceful as hell right now.

And damned good looking. Part of Negan wonders if those hauntingly blue eyes are a real thing, or if he somehow dreamed them up during his seasickness-induced nausea. With his eyes closed like this though, Rick still somehow looks just as sharp and visually dangerous as he did with them open. Even as his slow breathing cues that he's still fast asleep, he looks almost goddamned inhuman. He must've been tossing and turning a little in his sleep, too, because some of his hair has fallen onto his face. He's comfortably settled onto his back right now with one hand resting on his stomach and his mouth just barely open.

Negan actually swallows, because how in the fuck did he get this lucky? Maybe Simon's onto something with this whole cruise idea. It's starting to not sound all that bad if he's got this guy around. But that's assuming Rick feels like spending his time with him, because whether Negan wants him to or not, he's not into forcing company on himself.

“Sleep to your little heart's content, Blue Eyes.” Negan teases, before he pushes himself to his feet and strips down for his shower.

When he emerges, Rick is no longer in his bed, but Negan can hear his voice. He sounds like he's talking on the phone, and when Negan gets to his closet, where he pulls out his bag and moves it to the bed, he can see Rick at the desk just before the balcony, staring out the window while he does just that.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Meant to call you earlier, but I fell asleep. Stomach was really turnin', you know...” Rick's apologizing for Negan getting sick in the hallway, by taking the blame himself? Negan cocks an eyebrow, but lets Rick do his thing as he rifles through his bag for his clothes. “Yeah, thanks. Bye.”

When Rick hangs up, Negan looks up at him with a shirt in his hand, unable to mask the little smirk working its way onto his lips. He notices the way Rick looks down along his chest and falters, and laughs when the guy lets out a sigh.

“You're naked.”

“That's how I usually like to take my showers.” Negan quips, before he lets the towel drop from his waist and slides on a pair of black boxer briefs. He's pushing a leg into his pants when Rick answers him.

“That's not what I meant.” Rick looks like he's trying to figure out how to explain himself, and by the time he continues, Negan's already zipping his pants up and reaching for a white T-shirt. “Guess you're just not shy.”

Negan's well aware of what Rick actually meant. He's just good at making people uncomfortable. Oh, and by the way, Rick's eyes really _are_ that fucking blue. And Negan likes the way he watches him with them.

“No, I just don't care if you know what my dick looks like.” Negan shrugs his shirt on, and then mocks surprise. “Oh, shit, you're probably one of those well-raised southern boy motherfuckers who thinks this is a violation of my privacy, aren't you?”

Rick doesn't answer—at least, not verbally. It's all in his expression, which has Negan resisting the urge to double over laughing. He starts out squinting, his head tilting just barely to the side. Negan can practically hear the 'are you making fun of me?' in those fierce blue eyes, but it doesn't last long, because he shakes his head and apparently decides to brush it off. It seems Rick here is quick on the uptake that this is just the kind of shit Negan says. That's going to make them hanging out a lot easier.

“Don't worry, I'm not bothered.” Negan continues as he tucks his bag away in the closet again. “You've seen one, you've seen 'em all. Except mine,” his tongue just barely pokes out from between his lips, and he sees Rick do the squinty thing again, “because it's fucking fantastic. You should feel lucky, is what you should feel.”

Rick merely shrugs. “You've seen one, you've seen 'em all. I'm from Georgia, by the way.” So yeah, pretty Southern.

Negan laughs. He likes how this guy isn't bothering to get offended by the things he's saying, but also isn't letting it all slide. He has his own subtle way of talking back. Or, well, that's the first impression of him Negan's getting. “That would explain the hospitality.”

“ _Southern_ hospitality?” Rick clarifies jokingly.

“Yep. Not every day some poor fucker jumps to the seasick guy's aid, y'know.” Negan not-quite-thanks, before he moves toward the mirror and starts straightening out his hair. He notices how Rick steps out of his way, but doesn't quite leave. The little things tell him everything he needs to know.

“You're welcome.” Rick comments, before he slides open the balcony door and steps outside. The rushing of the water as the boat surfs along it suddenly permeates the air, along with a moisture and the smell of ocean spray. “That mean you're through with me?”

Negan scoffs. “Not even fucking somewhat. I promised your ass booze, remember?” Satisfied with his hair, he turns and rests his hands and ass against the counter. All the better to stare at those eyes again. “Don't tell me you're gonna back out on me.”

Rick shakes his head. “I didn't say that.” He turns and looks about the room from his spot on the balcony, and Negan sees that he's finally starting to feel a little bit awkward confined to the room he's been requested to hang out in. Maybe it's beginning to sink in that he's in a total stranger's room, or maybe he's picking up on Negan's stare. “I'll take a drink.”

“Good.” Negan's smirking again—get used to it, Rick, he does this shit a lot—before he nods for Rick to follow him out the door and into that narrow hallway once more. He hears the balcony door slide shut, and a few footsteps out onto the tacky blue carpet, he hears his stateroom door close.

\- - - - -

“This is not where we get drinks.” Rick's voice is so matter-of-fact that it's laughable. As if he expects Negan to spin on his heel, face him, and be downright shocked that they're not sitting at tables in a bar. Which he's not going to do, because he's too busy peering three floors down over a balcony into a room with dark walls and carpets and lit-up stairs leading to each floor. At the bottom floor is a bar where a man with a guitar is singing at a stage behind it. There are rounded windows, where elevators ride up and people can peer over the vast area during their rides up or down.

“Thank fuck _you're_ here, Captain Obvious.” Negan comments simply as he looks around. “This is the atrium, according to the map.” In one hand, he clutches said map. He remembers boarding the ship through the atrium and and being momentarily mesmerized by the sheer size of it. It didn't feel like a room this big belonged on a cruise ship, but now that he's back there after seeing the party deck and the staterooms, it doesn't feel so impossible anymore. And it helps that he can see the casino from here.

Rick is really good at responding without actually responding, Negan notices. Even though he's not looking at the other man right now, he can still feel those eyes on him, and he's pretty sure they're rolling. They've known each other for a handful of hours, and Rick has already reached 'I'm done with you, you son of a bitch'. Hilarious.

So Negan throws his arm around his new friend's shoulders and grins. “Look, I just figured we didn't have to jump right into the fucking-our-asses-up part. There's a lot of shit to do on this boat, and you know as well as I do that shit is a lot funner to do when you've got a shit-doing buddy with you to do said shit.”

He's looking right at Rick now, so when the other man shrugs, he can see a hint of a smile on his face. Of course he doesn't want to tour this big ass cruise ship all by himself. What Negan doesn't expect, however, is for Rick to offer up a suggestion on what they should do.

“Alright.” Rick complies, gently shoving himself out of Negan's grip. “Tell you what—let's go find a couple of drinks, and then afterwards, I'm takin' you to the comedy club.”

Negan whistles, clearly impressed. He jabs a finger in Rick's direction. “There he is, the guy I wanted to hang out with!” The plans are pretty solid, too. According to the big clock looming over the atrium elevators, it's just past six in the evening, and everyone who's attended a comedy club knows the good shows don't start until late at night.

This isn't the biggest ship on the cruise line, Negan knows that much, and it's still fucking huge. And now that he's not sick to his stomach, he's actually really interested in all it has to offer. The atrium offers access to most of the lower decks, but the Lido deck, where Negan had been hanging out as the ship had taken off, requires an elevator ride up. Negan contemplates taking Rick there, where things will get interesting with all the poolgoers and partiers lounging around the two outdoor bars it has to offer, but he changes his mind when the map points out a few bars on the lower floors of the ship.

His new destination is a bar named Chameleon, that manages to hold his curiosity long enough to have him following the map. He'll probably take them up top again before their visit to the comedy club, but for now...

Negan likes that Rick follows along dutifully, almost like a lost puppy. If he's being honest, he can't say he'd expected to have some dude following him around on the ship. When Simon had told him where he was going, he had really pictured the two of them surrounded by women in bikinis, Simon demanding selfies every five goddamned seconds, with alcohol in damn near every picture. He envisioned music, and dancing, and copious amounts of sex. But then again, the ship hadn't played “Rock the Boat” when it had embarked like he had also daydreamed, so maybe Negan's fantasies are just as out of whack as that expectation.

Besides, this guy's been entertaining so far. Negan's not exactly disappointed with his company.

Chameleon is one floor down from the balcony they'd been overlooking the atrium on, so it doesn't take long to get there. They pass into a corridor that's loaded to the brim with photographers offering to take pictures with all kinds of backgrounds, ranging from the famous stairwell in the Titanic to a sandy beachside. Behind them are windows overlooking the water as the ship sails along it. And at the end of the corridor are several bar junctions. One points to a small piano bar that calls itself “Blue Dahlia”, and the other to some teenage joint where a bunch of kids are gathered on couches, playing games and taking pictures on their tablets and smartphones.

The other is Chameleon, which Negan directs Rick into. It's got a bouncer, presumably since a kids' joint is literally two doors away, but he just nods the two of them inside and mumbles something that sounds like a suggestion for them to enjoy their stay. For a bouncer, he seems awfully shy, and Negan can't help but notice he's got a fucking mullet. Interesting.

Chameleon comes by its name honest. The tables are all round, with lounge-style couches that circle around them. The surfaces of all the tables are black, but with subtle hints of other colors that change slowly, swirling about the table almost like they're alive. The bar is at the very end of the room, and its surface has the same effect, and the black carpets only seem to make it stand out more. The windows are tinted just slightly, but one can still tell that dusk is starting to work its way around them. Negan likes this bar almost instantly, and he rocks backward on his heels and whistles to display his approval.

“Fuck me running sideways,” he barks as he starts toward the bar, “now _this_ is the kind of joint I like to enjoy a drink at.”

He spares a glance in Rick's direction, and it pleases him to see that the other man looks at least almost as blown away as Negan himself is. Rick's still trying to take in the scenery as they walk, and there's a tiny smile pulling at his lips. He either feels Negan's stare or decides to look at him regardless, but suddenly, those blue eyes are on him again, and those fuckers stand out like Hello Kitty on a dick pic in the darkness of this place.

“Not bad, Negan.” Rick congratulates, and it pulls Negan out of his wandering thoughts quickly enough that it tugs a laugh out of his throat along the way.

“You are welcome.” Negan mocks a bow, and then nods to the bar as they arrive. “Now, let's see if these drinks get your dick as weepy as the scenery did.”

“ _Really?_ ” Rick squints a lot, Negan is noticing, and he tries his best to avoid laughing when he catches the other man looking down at the crotch of his pants, as if seeking out any sign of moisture. Come on now, Rick...

The bartender chooses right then to show up, and Negan finally gives in to his amusement when Rick looks up and clears his throat.

“What can I get for you?” The bartender asks, and Negan notices the way she's got her eyebrow cocked in reaction to his laughter. In her defense, she probably works around a bunch of snickering assholes like Negan on a regular basis, so he totally gets it.

“Scotch, on the rocks.” Negan requests, and then nods to Rick. “And whatever he's having.”

“Long island iced tea.” Rick answers, and their eyes meet as Negan raises both eyebrows.

“ _Nice_.” He says, and as the bartender disappears off to prepare their drinks, Negan's ship card in her hand, the aforementioned Negan devotes his attention to Rick. “You guys drink a lot of those in the south?”

Rick pauses, and then abruptly starts reaching for napkins, which obviously baffles the fuck out of Negan. He backs away a couple of steps as Rick crams them into the breast pocket of the nice little button-up he's sporting.

It looks really fucking good on him, Negan notes.

“...You know what?” Negan raises both hands in surrender, because he almost feels like he needs to. “Fuck that shit right up against the wall, I'm not even gonna ask.

“Good choice.” The way Rick looks so satisfied with Negan's response gets right under the somewhat taller man's skin like a splinter, and he can already feel it stinging and festering from there, because he just knows Rick isn't going to use those napkins to wipe his mouth after he takes polite sips from his highly alcoholic beverage. No way in hell.

The bartender chooses then to return with Negan's card and the two drinks, and then beckons them off with a wave. Negan directs them to the seat closest to the window. They aren't the only ones in the bar, but the place isn't exactly hopping, either. Negan chocks it up to the fact that there's still quite the embarkation party going on up on Lido deck, but he doesn't mind. It just means they get more of this cool-ass bar to themselves.

“So,” Rick's voice is sudden, and it permeates Negan's thoughts so abruptly that he actually, physically jumps in his seat, “you never told me where you were from.”

Huh. Negan guesses he hasn't. In his defense, the way this whole thing is working out is pretty goddamned weird. It has been from the start. When do you buddy up with someone you damn near puked all over, anyway? Everything's been ass-backwards ever since. He's already slept in the same bed as the guy, and the most he knew at the time was his name. That's making a stretch, even in the one-night-stand department.

Is that thought an implication that Negan's interested in a one-night-stand with Rick Grimes? Not quite, but close. He's definitely curious about him, but they've been around one another for give or take five hours, and over half of that was sleeping, so Negan's not going to count his chickens. However, he likes getting laid, so there's that much.

“Nebraska.” Negan answers, realizing he hasn't said anything for a while. He takes a swig of his drink, and clears his throat when it burns his way down. “Little town called Prester.”

Rick lowers his drink from his lips after a particularly large swallow. “Does that mean I get to call you a Yankee?”

“On account'a me makin' all those down south jokes about yer accent?” Negan teases, and he swears he sees Rick's mouth pucker. Goddamn it, Rick, you make it too easy.

“I'm gonna take that as a yes.” Rick's voice is low. Negan finds himself wondering just why this guy sticks around him if he annoys him so damn much. He supposes that's a different question for a different time, though.

“I reckon.” When Rick sighs, Negan shakes his head and waves his drink at him. “Fuck, I'm sorry.” He takes another swig. “I can take things a little too far, sometimes. If you want to know the truth, Rick, I actually _like_ your accent. It hits the eardrums _just right._ Like it's not too strong, but it's perfect with your voice all gravelly like it is. Don't think I could picture you with a different fucking accent at this point. It'd almost sound cartoony, and I'm not about to be in here drinking with Mickey Mouse.”

“...Thanks. I think.” Negan can hear Rick's frown in his voice, so he doesn't bother looking over at him. Instead, he turns his focus out the tinted window, where the water has grown darker with the setting sun. It's going to be nighttime soon.

Three drinks later, and the two men have decided that it's time to grab a bite to eat. The buffet cafeteria on Lido sounds like just the ticket, so they settle on heading up there. Negan had planned on taking them that way eventually, anyway. By now, Rick's got three long island iced teas in him and he's pretty well buzzed. Negan's a little gone, himself, but he's at that pleasant stage where his head feels all warm and his tongue is looser. Rick, on the other hand, is flushed in a way that makes Negan wonder just how much he drinks on a regular basis.

Okay, so they've definitely got to get some food on this guy's stomach. Long island iced teas were not the ideal beverage to be consuming on an empty stomach. Negan realizes he should've thought about that before dragging them to a bar for drinks, but whatever. Too late, now.

It's not like Rick is behaving drunkenly or anything, though. It's more like Negan doesn't want to have to return his favor from earlier today and clean up the shit that comes out of his stomach when it realizes it's being poisoned with alcohol.

They've stopped just before the elevators for a pee break. Or rather, Rick has. Negan's waiting against the pillar in the middle of the lobby, when the doors slide open and offer up a view of a couple engulfed in the sloppiest of kisses. The man, who Negan identifies as a somewhat small Asian guy, pulls away when the elevator announces that they've reached their destination, and gently tugs his partner off the elevator and through the lobby. Negan contemplates whistling, but the woman looks like she could tear him a new one for it, and hell, maybe that's their own little private moment that they want to keep. Who is he to ruin a good makeout session?

Not long after the couple disappears, Rick steps out of the room, looking considerably better, even if the tinge of red is still evident on his face. “You ever flushed one of those toilets? Loud as hell...” He questions, his smile a little looser with the alcohol in his system. “I got a daughter back home, she'd lose her mind if she heard that. She used to think she'd go down the drain in the bathtub if I didn't take her out before unpluggin' it...”

“You have a daughter?” Negan questions.

“And a son.” Rick nods.

It's not that Negan's surprised Rick has kids or anything, but he's seen neither hide nor hair of any Rick Offspring since the start of this whole thing, and he sincerely doubts the guy is gonna just let his kids run around while he shares a bed with a complete stranger for several hours and then goes off to have a drink with him. That's not usually how this parenting thing works, and even Negan, who isn't a parent, knows that much.

“Where are they?” Negan continues, as they step onto the elevator and he hits the button for the Lido deck.

“They're stayin' with their aunt in Atlanta.” Rick shrugs.

“And...your wife...?”

“She died givin' birth to my daughter.” Rick looks the kind of sad that someone who's had a long time to adjust to loss of a love one would look, and maybe a little exasperated with answering that question. Doing the math, Rick's daughter would be old enough to be able to explain the drain situation, so that means she's got to be at least three years old. So he's had at the very least, three years to adjust to it. Negan can still tell it hurts, though.

“Shit...I'm sorry, Rick.” He says, scrubbing at the back of his neck with the palm of his hand. “I didn't realize...”

Rick shakes his head. “Don't be. We just met, I don't expect you to know my life story.”

He's got a point, and even though Negan isn't crazy about leaving it be on such an awkward note, the elevator doors couldn't slide open at a more opportune time. They both walk out and onto Lido deck, where the music is suddenly ten times louder.

As Negan had internally predicted earlier, there is definitely a party still going on. The pool just outside of the cafeteria is surrounded by people, and Negan has to stop and look when he realizes that there's more cheering than dancing going on. And is someone announcing something on a microphone?

“Negan.” Rick's voice is insistent behind Negan, but he's still watching. He waves vaguely for Rick to follow him, and then turns his head briefly just to make sure the poor guy isn't tripping all over his drunken self trying to tag along. Thankfully, he seems capable of keeping himself in check. Another trait Negan likes about him.

He leads them outside and around the crowd to the other side of the pool, where he finally lays eyes onto what's got everyone so worked up. Just as the woman holding the microphone announces his name, Negan sees none other than his best friend, Simon, waltzing out onto the edge of the pool in nothing but his swim trunks.

“Oh, fuck.” Negan realizes aloud, staring with wide eyes across the pool at his friend. Their eyes meet and Simon blows him a kiss. The crowd promptly loses it.

“What?” Rick's accent is heavier in his voice with the booze in his system. “Negan.”

“This must be the—“

The announcer decides to speak up right then, effectively finishing Negan's sentence for him. “AND LET OUR FIRST CONTESTANT IN THE HAIRY CHEST CONTEST SHOW US WHAT HE'S GOT!”

Negan feels Rick's eyes on him, but he tries to drown out the intensity of the stare by whooping loudly to cheer his friend on. He throws his fists into the air and screams right along with the crowd, as 'Bump N Grind' starts to play over the speakers and Simon fucking _gets it._

He's dancing along the entire edge of the pool, moving and swaying, and then he steps into the shower at the corner and lets the spray wet his hair and chest. The entire Lido deck breaks into an uproar of screams and applause, and the next thing Negan knows, he's doubled over laughing.

When he rights himself again, Rick is _still_ staring at him, and he finally concedes. He doesn't bother trying to speak, because the cheers over Simon's dance are making it too hard to hear, so he instead directs Rick inside and they get to work on heading through the buffet to get their food.

By the time they've filled their plates and taken a seat, Negan's ears are still ringing. The music has shifted, and a different name has been announced—Abraham something, Negan isn't really paying attention anymore.

“I gotta ask.” Rick breaks the silence at their table, and Negan looks up just in time to see him pop a tomato into his mouth. “Who was that guy? You two obviously knew each other.”

Negan shrugs and takes a drink of his water. “That would be the Fuckass McChodesucker who decided it'd be cute to bring me onto a cruise with him. He's been going on about that contest since we got onto the ship.”

“Is that Negan for boyfriend?”

Negan freezes. And then bursts out laughing again. The thought of him and Simon all tangled up in a bed together has him practically peeing. Yeah, okay, the guy's not bad-looking, but they've just been friends for so long that he can't ever see himself getting to that point with him.

“Fuck no.” Negan barks, still laughing. “Guy's charismatic, but so am I. You get two of those types together between the sheets and the sword fight euphemism probably turns into a real fucking sword fight, y'know?”

Rick's laughing now, and Negan realizes he really enjoys how soft the guy's laugh is. “No tellin' with you.”

“Careful what you say to me, Rick.” Negan's suddenly wearing a twisted smirk. After all, they're on this boat together for five days. Making fun of his accent and flirting about his eyes aren't the only things Negan can do to get under his skin. “He's my best friend—we met when I moved to Prester. He's one of the few guys who can keep up with me.” And by that, Negan means put up with him. But he's not going to say that out loud.

By the time they've finished eating, Rick has sobered up a bit more. He's got them at the entrance to the comedy club now, just in time for whatever the next show is. According to the schedule Negan had found on his bed in his stateroom upon arrival, there are only two comedians, and they put on alternating shows in the evening.

Rick takes the lead this time, directing them into what is very obviously your lounge-style comedy club. The couches and tables are identical in shape to the ones at Chameleon, minus all the cool colors. The tables are the color of oak, and the couches a gaudy reddish-brown. Of course, the carpet looks almost just like the one in the hallway Negan had gotten sick in, just with browns and oranges and reds instead. Gross.

Either way, Rick's quick to find them a seat up close. He practically pulls Negan down onto the couch next to him.

“Slow the fuck down, eager beaver.” Negan urges, nodding to the stage. “The show hasn't even started yet.

Rick just rolls his eyes, though. “Shut up and watch. You'll see in a minute.”

Whoa, hold the phone. Negan finds himself staring, because is it just the alcohol talking, or does Rick actually want him around? He's excited enough to show him...whatever he wants to show him about this comedy thing, so that's got to stand for something. It makes Negan feel stupidly content about the outcome of the first night of this cruise.

Sure enough, 'a minute' comes and the lights dim. A booming voice from behind them announces the first comedian as a Glenn Rhee, and when Negan looks over to Rick, he's grinning almost proudly. Like he's seeing family getting out onto the stage. He turns his focus back up to where the performer is stepping out, and he's more than a little shocked when he sees who it is.

“That's the Asian kid I saw macking on some girl in an elevator.” He realizes aloud, and Rick smiles.

“I'm guessin' you mean his wife. They're the reason I'm even on this cruise, myself. Dragged me out here because I 'need a vacation'.” He then raises a hand and digs into his pocket, withdraws the napkins, and crams them into Negan's mouth. “Now, shut up.”

Turns out this Glenn kid is actually pretty funny. He's got that awkward sense of humor based on personal experience that kind of makes you feel secondhand embarrassed for him, but the crowd is eating it up. He's really active out there on the stage, physically demonstrating, and he's the type of comic who has a little difficulty not laughing when everyone else is. He obviously gets a lot of enjoyment out of what he does.

When his bit is over, he hops off the stage and the lights come back on. The announcer alerts the crowd of a brief intermission before the next comic gets onstage. Glenn immediately makes a beeline for someone off to the side, and then he drags her to Rick's and Negan's table.

“Well, there you have it.” Glenn starts, as if he's been expecting Rick to see his show and maybe offer feedback.

“It was great, Glenn.” Rick answers. “You heard the audience, right?”

Even in the dim lighting of the comedy lounge, Negan can see the way Glenn's cheeks flush somewhat, and he nods. “Yeah. Just...first time in front of this many people, y'know.”

“You killed it out there, kid.” Negan praises. “Fucked that shit up like some kind of comedy gang bang—I loved it.”

Glenn and his 'wife' exchange glances, before he finally answers. “Thanks. And you are...?”

“Negan. Been keeping your buddy here in check since this trip started.” He motions to Rick, who he can tell wants to stuff more napkins in his mouth. Thank fuck he doesn't have any more, because Negan spent almost the entirety of Glenn's bit trying to clean the little napkin remnants off his tongue.

“Uhh, okay...” Negan sees Glenn and Rick exchange glances, and then the former motions to the woman next to him. “This is Maggie—my wife.”

“Nice to meet you, Negan.” She extends a hand, which Negan shakes. He notices her accent is a little stronger than Rick's. “Thanks for keepin' Rick company. Has he been bad?”

“Fucking awful.” Negan can't help but take advantage of the opportunity this woman slips him. He likes her already for it. “Naughty as _shit_. I dunno how you two do it all the time.”

Again, he can hear the roll in Rick's eyes as he speaks. “So what're you two gonna do after Glenn finishes his shows?”

The couple looks pensive, and then Maggie smiles. “By then, the party on Lido should be gettin' pretty crazy. I was thinkin' we'd go up there and celebrate his first night with some drinks and dancin'.” She sees Negan's interest in the subject, and it's like she's trying to keep Rick as involved as possible (probably something to do with him 'needing a vacation' as he mentioned earlier), because she raises a hand, flagging down one of the servers, and then speaks again. “You two gonna tag along? You're welcome to it.” She orders a drink called a 'court jester', and then Negan and Rick decide to try one too. Glenn succumbs, as well.

They're enjoying their drinks as the lights dim again and the announcer welcomes onstage a woman by the name of Tara Chambler. She's another awkward one, but after she gets started, her jokes pick up speed. Not unlike Glenn, she's soon got the crowd going with her method of acting out her jokes. She occasionally calls out members of the audience, including her girlfriend, who goes by Rosita. Makes sure the people know to go out onto Lido after the show's over to see her do something pretty awesome. Negan can tell she's head over heels for the girl, and he's almost disappointed when Tara moves on into the rest of her show.

Once Tara's performance is over, she and Glenn each alternate one more time with their shows, which progressively get more adult as the night drags on. When midnight hits, both comedians hop onto the stage and go through a sort of Q&A session with the audience—one that has them rolling, not unlike their separate performances. Negan is impressed, and when he glances between Maggie and Rick, he notices that both are grinning like losers onto the stage. He cranes his neck to look a couple of couches behind him, where he can see Rosita doing the same.

By now, everyone at the table has a few more drinks in their system. Rick's back to that pleasantly drunk stage, and Negan's a little beyond that. He feels more aware of the ship's movements, and in his drunken state, he finds himself mentally thanking Carol again for her generous offering to the cause that is his enjoyment of this vacation.

Lido Deck's riddled with passengers. Negan notices that the crowd has changed, though. Now, instead of families and children, it's mostly college-age kids and other young adults. Everyone's in their swimsuit, even though the pool is completely empty. Negan sees that the water is splashing over the edge on one side, which indicates that the boat is actually _rocking_ , but it's not so drastic that it's concerning. Or maybe that's the alcohol talking. Maybe Negan should feel a little more concerned that the pool water isn't entirely level while the ship is out in the middle of the fucking Gulf of Mexico. But he doesn't.

He does, however, take note of the fact that the crew has moved all the lower-deck lawn chairs out of the way in favor of creating a makeshift stage out of the extra floor space. There's a man with a microphone standing in front of three people. All four of them are wearing red shirts with their names in big white letters across the chest. The man in the front goes by Aaron. The girl on the right is the one Tara had announced as her girlfriend during the comedy show—Rosita. On the left is another woman with the name 'Sasha' spelled out on her chest, and in the middle is a younger looking man—probably just barely twenty-one—whose name is Noah.

The man with the microphone introduces them, and then the music starts—a hip hop song that immediately has the three dancers moving in unison with one another. The crowd erupts in cheers, and Negan sees Tara in the front of it, cheering her girlfriend along with them. Eventually, the guests on Lido start dancing too, even though it's more just dance floor moving than actually trying to keep up with the three performers in front of them. Everyone's having a blast, and Negan can see servers weaving their way along the openings of the crowd, selling drinks left and right.

Negan and Rick have retired to the upper deck to watch from below, and they both accept another drink from one of the servers, before Rick speaks up.

“There's Maggie and Glenn.” He says, motioning toward the side of the crowd, where the two are three sheets to the wind and dancing _all over each other_.

Negan smirks. “Damn, look at 'em get it.”

“I've never seen them like this.” Rick admits. “Like, it's obvious they love the hell outta each other, but dancing like that...”

“Isn't that what you're supposed to do on one of these things?” Negan thinks aloud. “Lose your fucking shit and do a bunch of stuff you don't want to remember when you get back home? Or, fuck, blame it on the alcohol.” A shrug follows his words.

“Yeah, probably.” Rick laughs and shakes his head, leaning over the metal railing. Negan can see a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead, either indicating he's really drunk or just burning up. Maybe it's because he's used to wearing his heavy jacket all the time, but Negan doesn't feel like it's that hot out here. The ocean breeze is cooling, so he's gonna go with the thought that Rick's pretty damn drunk.

He looks down and sees Simon dancing with a little group of his own. Guy's actually pretty good at what he does when he puts his mind to it, and apparently, other people think so. They're trying to follow along with his moves, and Negan finds it kind of amusing.

And then he dares to shoot Rick a playful look. “Should we get out there, too?”

Rick outright laughs. “Not a chance. You're not seein' me dance.”

“How come?” Negan rests his elbow against the rail and looks straight into those blue eyes, which look even better with the haze of alcohol clouding them. “You actually care about what I think?”

“No.” Rick almost looks defensive in the way his eyes widen, and Negan's stomach clenches tightly at the sight. What is it with Blue Eyes and basically everything he says or does being goddamn perfect? “Well, maybe. Kinda? Yeah.”

It's Negan's turn to laugh. “Why? Fuck, you're not gonna remember me in a couple weeks. I say come here and lose it with me.” In Rick's defense, Negan isn't exactly your number one dancer, either. But hell, if he can get Rick out there, he's gonna try to be. He slides an arm around the man's waist and gently urges him away from the rail. “Up here, where no one's paying attention. Come on.”

And he almost has him. Rick's hazy eyes find Negan's, and he follows him out into the open, away from the crowd. They take a couple of steps, and then Rick laughs and falls forward, resting a hand on Negan's chest and his head on the taller man's shoulder. “I can't do this.” He says, his laugh husky from the booze, which hits Negan in places he needs Rick further away to abate.

“Okay, alright. Fucking fun-sucker.” Negan jokes, before he pulls back and settles for an arm around Rick's shoulders. “A walk, then. Can I at least get that much?”

Rick looks up at him, rolls his eyes, and then nods. “Yeah, okay. I can do a walk.”

And walk, they do. They start out on the upper Lido deck, watching the dancers as they move. Negan notices Simon making out with a woman against the wall just outside of the cafeteria. He and Rick decide to explore the rest of the ship. The music grows quieter when they enter the elevators, and they separate when Negan pushes a button for the top floor of the atrium, where he knows the casino and another long corridor awaits them.

Negan's arm slides around Rick's shoulders again, and he notices the other man doesn't pull away. He looks down at his slightly shorter travel buddy, and sees that Rick isn't looking at him. His attention is focused out the windows along the side of the corridor, where the water now looks inky black. He's in his own world.

“How're you holding up there, Rick?” Negan asks, unable to mask the amusement in his voice. Rick looks almost dazed. “Gonna make it through the night?”

“Yeah.” Rick shrugs. He's fiddling with breast pocket of his shirt as they walk. “Just thinkin', that's all.”

“What about?” Negan can't help but question. The look on Rick's face has him more than a little curious.

“About what you said earlier.” Rick finally looks at him, and the haze in those sharp blue eyes has mostly faded. He's not sober, by any means, but he's definitely focused. How any one human can be so focused after all they've had to drink is beyond Negan, but whatever. “About this vacation bein' about doing things you don't want to remember when you get home. At first, I was thinkin' about how you threw up all over the floor in front of me, and then it was us hangin' out today, and now I think you're wrong.”

Negan cocks a single eyebrow, waiting for more. Rick's got his full attention.

“You've put out a real effort to give me a good time, almost like a date.” Rick continues. “But this just doesn't feel crazy to me. If you'd wanted to do somethin' crazy, we'd already be in bed together.”

“Well, fuck.” Negan laughs. “We could be, if you're agreeable to it.”

Rick shoves at him, but it's gentle enough that it's obvious he isn't trying to push him away. “That's not what I mean.” Man, his accent is thick under the influence. For the second time this evening, Negan notes that he likes it. “I'm havin' fun. And I don't want to forget it. Don't think I will tomorrow, or the next day.”

Negan hesitates. “That mean I get more of your sweet-ass vacation time tomorrow?”

“Maybe.” Another shrug from Rick. “But for now, I'm tired. Take me to bed.” When he sees Negan's eyebrows go up, he elbows him. “In our own rooms, Negan.”

“Fuck you, I knew that.” Negan's grinning, tongue dipping out to wet his lips as he speaks.

As they start back to the elevators, Negan shudders when Rick's arm slides around his waist.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm shooting for an update once a week, if not more frequently. It all just depends on work and how long the chapters turn out to be. Thanks for reading, everyone! <3 Couldn't do this without you!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon puts a bug in Negan's ear, and it turns out to be just the push in the right direction he needs. It's moving fast, but when you have five days to get the ball rolling, it's gotta.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a lot of this chapter was inspired by real events. There was a storm on my cruise, and the little thing at the end of the restaurant sequence happened when I was there, too. I couldn't resist but to write it in, haha.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy!
> 
> Also, here's a moodboard I made: http://neganstonguething.tumblr.com/post/157024265127/blue-jello-read-on-ao3-negans-dragged-onto-a

Negan dreams of a storm that night. He's on Lido deck, looking down at the water, and lightning and thunder are swirling around him like the sea itself. Waves rise and crash down, smashing up against the sides of the ship. The boat shoots up on a wave and then drops abruptly, and Negan finds himself holding onto the rail for dear life, his stomach in his throat. He spins, turning to look at the rest of Lido deck, and the partiers are still going at it, dancing and drinking like nothing is going on. Even the heavy pounding of the rain against the ground and the roar of the wind doesn't stop them.

Negan walks on legs that feel like jelly to the other side of the deck, and he sees the pool everyone's dancing around. The waves are in the pool too, splashing up and spraying stray dancers. It's like he's the only one who gives a shit that they're in the middle of what could be the thunderstorm version of Titanic. He tries to yell for the dumbasses to get inside before they get flung off the boat, but his voice is drowned out by the wind and rain.

And then thunder claps and he's awake.

Oh, wait, that's not thunder. That's knocking. Who in the fuck is knocking on his door?

It takes Negan a solid thirty seconds to reorient himself. He sees the reddish-brown ceiling of his stateroom, and then turns his head to look at the balcony off to his left. He's aware that the ship really is swaying a lot more than it was yesterday, and he finds himself checking to make sure the motion sickness patch Carol so generously gave to him is still on. It is.

“C'mon, man, wake your ass up!” Simon's voice is muffled from outside the door, and Negan 'oh's to himself when he recognizes his friend's voice. He sits up and turns, settling himself at the edge of the bed. His head is throbbing.

Goddamn, it hurts. He supposes he did do a lot of drinking last night, but he's got a feeling the rocking of the ship has something to do with it, too.

Man, what a night. Negan's had more than a handful of crazy parties in his lifetime, but the fun just _never stopped_ last night. He remembers everything, from Rick helping him assuage his seasickness, to them going out drinking and eating and enjoying comedy together. He remembers his arm around Rick's shoulders, and Rick's arm around his waist, and that... _thing_ at the end, when they got to Rick's stateroom.

Yeah, _that_ thing. They'd stood there like fucking teenagers, hands in their pockets and shuffling about awkwardly, because they actually didn't feel like they were done with their evening. But Rick was tired, and Negan didn't need any more booze in either of their systems, and so they had cleared their throats, said their goodbyes, and Negan had clapped Rick on the shoulder before watching him go inside.

At the very least, he _did_ learn that he and Rick were just six doors apart from one another. That's always a plus.

Negan pushes himself up to his feet just as the boat sways again, and he catches his hand up against the wall. Maybe he should be a little concerned about the urgency in Simon's voice, but he honestly doesn't think it's that big of a deal. His friend is just impatient, and there's honestly no telling how long he's been trying to wake Negan up through the muffler of that thick stateroom door.

He opens it regardless, and then makes his way out to the balcony. He's wearing just his pants from yesterday right now, so the ocean breeze feels nice as fuck against his bare skin, which he realizes is kind of hot from the slight hangover he's got going on.

“Christ, you must've partied something hardy last night.” Simon jokes as he joins Negan on the balcony. “I practically had to bang the entirety of the Hawaii Five-O theme song on your door to get you to answer.”

“...Slept well, I fuckin' guess.” Negan's still trying to wake up, and his throbbing head isn't helping the battle any. “Please tell me you feel this boat moving more than it was yesterday.”

Simon laughs, because Negan's plight is apparently just that damn funny. “We went through a storm last night. One of the workers at the breakfast buffet told me the waves are still churning pretty good and probably will be for half the day. He acted like it was no big deal, and these guys spend like six months on the ship at a time, so I'm guessing he knows his shit.”

“Oh.” Well, that makes some sense. Negan does remember how the pool water was swaying a lot the previous night. Maybe the storm was already building around them at that time. “Were you awake when it hit?”

“The beginning of it, yeah.” Simon shrugs. “It wasn't like the shit you see in the movies or anything, but the ship was pitching pretty good from what I felt. Probably started an hour or so after you and your boy toy disappeared to play together.”

Negan scoffs. “Boy toy?”

Simon grins. “That guy you were with last night. You don't remember?”

Oh, Negan remembers, alright. He remembers trying to get Rick out onto the dance floor, and he remembers Rick leaning drunkenly against him when he realized he wasn't going to be able to dance. He remembers having napkins stuffed into his mouth, and being repeatedly engaged in staring at those sharp blue eyes. He fucking remembers, that's for sure.

“I do.” Negan's smirking off into the horizon, listening to the way the water hisses as its waves splash up against the ship below. “Don't think 'boy toy' is the right way to describe that fucker, is all.”

“Yeah?” Negan feels his friend's eyes on him, and hears the playful lilt in his voice. “How would you describe him then, Negan?”

“Shit, I don't know.” He shrugs. It's difficult not to feel like he's being interrogated here, and he doesn't know why Simon cares so much about it. “A guy I've been hanging out with? Why the fuck does it matter?”

“Just curious, man.” No, Negan knows why Simon's asking. He knows it's got something to do with the whole 'not being so mopey' thing his friend has been pushing since he told him about this cruise. Having a good time and all that shit, and he probably thinks this is Negan's Grease—his summer fling that has him going home all doe-eyed and melty because he fell in love during his vacation out at sea. He likes that Simon's looking out for him, but the realist in him tells him that this kind of thing just isn't meant to be. And also that it's cheesy as all fucking getout.

He hates that his stomach clenches painfully at the thought of not seeing Rick again after five days. Because seriously, come on stomach, you've known the guy for one day. Stop being such a fucking baby about it.

“When'd you two meet up anyway?” Simon adds.

“Now, _that's_ a fucking story.” Negan's suddenly chuckling to himself. “Never thought I'd meet some guy, almost fucking puke on him, and then end up spending the entirety of my first damn day with him.”

“Seriously?” Simon's face scrunches up, disbelief and amusement both evident on his face. “You almost puked on the man?”

“Yep.” Negan shakes his head, amused by the memory. “While your ass was off partying, I was trying to get my sea legs. Some...fucking ghost lady or some shit...she showed up and gave me some of these,” he turns his head and points to the little white patch behind his ear, “and I was on my way back here to put one on, when _that motherfucker_ ,” Rick, “popped up and crashed right into me.” Negan's full-on laughing, now. “I was a _prick_ to that guy, and then proceeded to hurl right in front of him, and his ass still came to my room, help me put this patch on, and even stayed in the room with me until I felt better. He's something else, that guy...”

There's a silence when Negan's done talking, before Simon bursts out laughing. Negan flips him off.

“Okay, so I was wrong with 'boy toy'.” Simon finally says. “I now believe the term I was looking for is 'crush'.”

“Fuck no.” Negan deadpans. “This isn't high school. I'm not doing any of that 'he loves me, he loves me not' bullshittery.”

“You don't have to, man.” Simon gives his friend a playful nudge. “Liking the dude just happens—doesn't matter whether you're in high school or fifty fuckin' years old. You got a crush, that's all there is to it. And not to overstep any boundaries or anything, but you guys were all over each other last night, so you're not barking up the wrong tree.”

It occurs to Negan that Simon's actually being real with him, as if he wants to see whatever this is blooming between himself and Rick take root. Like it isn't a big disaster just waiting to happen, because if anything actually _does_ happen, it's going to suck royally when they have to go their separate ways at the end of the trip. Rick's got his kids, and Negan's got...well, his job or some shit. They can't just continue pursuing something that's only going to keep trying to get away.

He vaguely remembers what Rick said the previous night—something about not wanting to forget whatever happens on this ship. Did he also mean Negan?

Oh, for fuck's sake. Simon's got him actually thinking about this shit, and before he realizes what he's doing, he's swiftly socking his friend in the shoulder. “Stop trying to be my therapist. I'm _fine,_ Simon. Fuck you.”

Simon doesn't seem offended. If anything, he's the opposite. Negan watches him smile and shake his head, before he turns his focus out to the water.

“Did you win that contest?” Negan asks, and Simon shrugs, laughing.

“Nope. Some redheaded bastard took all the glory. When the hair on your chest is just the right shade of red that it gleams in the party lights, I guess you just hold some higher level of sex appeal or something.” He doesn't look too beat up about it, though. For a guy who was so excited about it, Negan finds this a little surprising.

He shrugs. “I'm sure there'll be plenty more moments for you to show off that hairy-ass chest, Simon.”

“Trust me,” Simon smirks, “I know. Anyway,” he pushes himself back from the rail and lets out a sigh, “you're boring me, so I'm gonna go blow some money at the casino. Have fun with your new squeeze.” He heads out the door without giving Negan much time to respond, just waving a hand on his way out.

Negan just shakes his head and decides it's time for some ibuprofen.

\- - - - -

The buffet is swimming with people, but Negan doesn't mind terribly now that he's got his headache mostly abated. Chatter is erupting nonstop through the large room, and the lines of people filling up their plates are overflowing. Negan doesn't know how he manages to find himself a spot in line, but he does. Once he's staring through the glass into the different foods piled up, he understands why it's so crowded.

The breakfast buffet is no fucking joke. There are things on plates Negan doesn't think he's ever seen, and dishes with labels in languages that he most definitely can't pronounce a lick of. It all smells good as fuck, though, so Negan slowly inches his way along the line with the full intention of trying a little bit of everything.

Goddamn, Negan loves not being seasick anymore.

“Well, hello there.” A familiar voice greets, and Negan finds himself thinking 'speak of the fucking devil', because the phantom Doctor Seasick herself is has filed into line behind him, and she's smiling up at him knowingly. “I take it the patch works?”

Negan grins, because this woman—Carol, right?—just looks so damned proud of herself. It's endearing in its own right. “That's the understatement of the fucking century, let me tell you. Spent the entirety of my evening last night _not_ clutching a toilet bowl for dear life, thanks to you and your offer, which, if I might add, was generous as shit.”

“You're welcome.” Carol says, as she plucks a croissant onto her plate. “Quite the party last night, huh?”

“You could say that.” Negan laughs. His plate is already over halfway full, and he hasn't even gotten halfway down the line yet. “Did you feel the storm?”

“Nope.” It's Carol's turn to laugh. “I slept like a bump on a log last night.”

“Shit, me too. Thanks to you.” Negan nudges her, and then he realizes his plate is going to be too full for him to finish his trip down the line, so he steps out. “Keep checkin' on me, will you? You're a fucking godsend.”

“Sure thing.” Carol's smiling, until the ship pitches again and Negan actually sways and has to regain his balance. He rolls his eyes when she laughs at him, and then offers a wave, before he turns away and decides to go find a place to sit and enjoy his exotic-as-fuck breakfast. He's thinking a seat by a window, and seeing as all the lower-level seats close to windows are taken over by other people, Negan attempts the journey upstairs.

Attempts, because he apparently sucks massively at functioning like a normal person while on a giant structure out at sea. He's picturing ambling around like a baby two days after his first steps on his way up the stairs, but he does surprise himself a little when he and his tray of ample food successfully make it to the top of the stairs. And his reward comes in the form of an open seat with a damn good view out the window. The glass on the second level extends almost from the floor all the way up to the ceiling, so Negan can see everything from the deck outside to the waves in the distance slapping around. It's easy to see the boat bobbing its way atop the water from here, too, and Negan imagines that if he had seen that yesterday, he'd have tossed his cookies long before running into Rick.

Thank fuck for timing, he supposes.

Negan doesn't know how long he's been sitting at his table, stuffing his face and staring dreamily out the window, but he does know that he's just about finished doing so when another voice penetrates the air across the table from him.

“Glad I'm not the only one late to breakfast.” Rick's voice sends a shiver down Negan's spine, and he's stupidly happy to direct his attention away from the beautiful ocean view to the guy who had somehow located him inside the crowded cafeteria. Not unlike Negan himself, Rick's got his plate piled up high with a colorful selection of breakfast foods. He looks tired as shit, though, almost like he wasn't ready to get up when he did.

“Well, a good-as-fuck morning to you too, Rick.” Negan greets, noticing how that smirk finds its way onto his lips so seamlessly when he's conversing with this guy, like it was made for him. “Did you have a long night or something?”

“You mean after we separated?” Rick questions after swallowing a bite of some kind of custard. “Yeah, guess so. I had...a lot to drink last night.”

“That, you did.” Negan reiterates, clearly amused. He feels a small amount of pity for Rick, who kind of looks like he too has a headache, but he's mostly just glad the guy took the time to seek him out. He's like a goddamn kid in a candy store, and he's still thinking this way even after he tried to knock it when Simon was cheering him on about it.

But then again, Rick's just...a companionable guy. He's easy to be around, and considering the characters they interacted with together last night, he's obviously versatile as fuck. Rick could probably hang out with anyone and find some way to get along with them, especially if Negan counts as a testament to that fact.

“I blame you.” Rick teases. “But at least it was fun. Real fun.”

“You're goddamned skippy, it was.” Negan responds, looking proud of himself, as if he's the only one who had a hand in making the previous night's activities as great as they had been. “Anyway, I just got a brilliant-as-fuck idea, Rick. Mind you, it entails you dedicating another of your precious vacation days to this poor fucker, but I know when a guy's enjoying my company and when he's not, so...”

He drifts off when he realizes Rick isn't even paying attention to him. In fact, when he follows those blue eyes, they're looking somewhere past him, and Negan suddenly grows irritated. “Uh, Rick Grimes. Earth to Rick. Blue Eyes, I'm fucking talking to you.”

It takes a few seconds, but when Rick's focus finally returns to Negan, he shakes his head. “Sorry, I was just...people-watchin'.”

“Excuse the fuck out of me, but you've got a 'people' right here to watch.” Negan points to himself, just as Rick waves a hand dismissively.

“No, look...” He points past Negan, and Negan pivots to follow the direction of Rick's finger. Straight past him is a sliding glass door that opens into a corridor leading out onto the deck. As the ship sways on the waves, people entering and exiting the door seem unable to walk in a straight line. Negan literally watches one person start on one side of the corridor, and by the time they're passing through the doorway, they've shifted to the other side. And then, there are the ones who aren't moving, whose bodies just tilt slightly to keep their balance rather than follow the ship's movements.

Negan takes comfort in this. It reminds him that he's not the only one who feels the fact that this giant boat is out in the middle of nowhere and bobbing around like a toy tugboat in some kid's bathwater. He scoffs a little, and then shrugs. “Okay, that's cool and all, but I'm trying to tell you shit, here...”

“...That's not funny to you?” Rick's expression is the example of legitimate surprise, and it occurs suddenly to Negan that this guy has one hell of a weird sense of humor. Y'know, that kind of humor that not everyone quite bites on, but it's endearing regardless. Fuck, that's adorable. _Rick_ is adorable. Negan's stomach knots up for what feels like the millionth time since he and Rick started hanging out together.

“...Shit, sorry. But not really—that's about as entertaining as watching trash empty itself.”

Rick's eyebrows shoot up. “You're an asshole.”

“Tell me something I don't fucking know.” Negan shrugs again. “But now that I have your attention,” he leans in a pointed attempt to block Rick's view of the corridor, “let me blow your mind with an offer you can't refuse.”

He gives Rick a second for rebuttal, and when the man doesn't say anything, continues.

“See, the only reason I'm here is because all this money's coming out of Simon's pocket.” Negan notices the moment of realization on Rick's face as he associates the name with the guy who had been in the hairy chest contest the previous night. “And this ship apparently has one hell of a fucking badass spa and sauna, but it costs extra. But I think Simon's gonna just have to take one for the team on this, because you and I both look like we could use a little TLC, and you'd be out of your goddamned mind to turn this offer away...” Rick's drifted off to staring behind him again, so Negan throws a grape at him. “Hey, shit-for-brains, I'm offering you a free fucking massage, here.”

It's a little impressive that Rick catches the grape as it bounces off his chest, and Negan almost can't keep the look of irritation on his face when he watches the guy pop the fruit into his mouth. “...I'm listenin', calm down.”

Negan cocks an eyebrow. “Well, alright...so, what do you say?”

“I say you're a dick for usin' your friend's money like that.” Rick answers matter-of-factly. “But I also say you're right about the TLC. So...when do we go?”

Negan literally feels his face light up. “Fuck yeah, that's the kind of answer I was hoping for! Finish your shit, Rick Grimes, so we can go get the fuck pampered out of us.”

\- - - - -

Negan isn't one hundred percent sure, but it looks to him like half the floor they're on is dedicated to the spa. There are far more than just a bunch of massage tables and hydrotherapy pools available. As he and Rick enter the big sliding doors leading into the spa, proudly named “Metamorphose” they immediately see what looks like a gym off to the right. Treadmills and exercise bikes line a carpeted area that sports a panoramic view of the water outside of the ship. To the left is reception, and straight ahead, Negan can see a set of corridors with a sign pointing out the different amenities the spa has to offer. He can faintly smell scented oils and a tangy aroma of...hair dye, maybe?

After registering, they're directed past the gym and into the hallway, where a sign points them left to the massage parlor. Negan has signed them up for the thermal suite, which he learns quickly is more than just a massage and sauna treatment. The door they enter leads to a room with fancy stone lounge chairs spread across it, and there's a hydrotherapy pool at the end of it. Negan can see glass doors along the wall next to the pool, one reading 'salt bath' and the one next to it 'sauna'. There are more, but Negan can't make out the words on them.

Negan and Rick find themselves behind another glass door entirely, lying on their stomachs on massage tables with professional masseuses rolling hot rocks up and down along their backs. The treatment is warm and soothing, and Negan finds that he's starting to grow more tired during the whole thing. He doesn't know how he can be so exhausted, but it's like the gentle assault on his muscles and nerves and skin is pulling out every ounce of tension in his body, making him limp and tired and...relaxed.

Again, he realizes that maybe Simon made a good call, bringing him here.

“Negan.” Rick's voice sounds just as tired as Negan is, and he laughs a little, turning his head to look at the other man. He catches sight of what has to be the softest human being he's ever seen. A shirtless Rick, with his body melted like candle wax into the massage table, his vibrant blue eyes half-lidded and tired. And he's just smiling sleepily back at Negan like the adorable motherfucker he is.

“Yeah?”

“We should go to the formal dinner together.” Negan isn't sure if it's because the massage is just taking out all the energy in Rick's voice or he's just that calm about it, but he brings the offer up as if he's talking about the weather. Negan, even in his half-asleep state, is immediately throwing it into context with how their previous night had gone and what Simon had said earlier this morning, so his stomach jumps when he thinks about it. But first, he's gotta ask...

“Formal dinner?” Because Negan really had no idea that this ship had that kind of thing. In all honesty, it doesn't sound like his type of dig. He'd much rather load his plate up at the buffet and stuff himself silly than...whatever it is they do differently at formal dinners.

But Rick's offering, and if Negan hadn't made it clear the previous night, he's pretty interested in spending whatever time he can with this guy.

“Yeah.” Rick shrugs, and then mutters an apology to the masseuse, who either doesn't notice or doesn't care. “According to the guide, they do one every night, and Glenn and Maggie can't make it because of Glenn's show, so I'm goin' alone. Be better if I had someone to come with me.”

Negan raises an eyebrow, and then he's grinning like the fucking Cheshire Cat. “You wanna know what I think, Rick?”

Rick doesn't answer—just watches Negan with that same cool and collected expression as before, waiting for clarification.

“I think you'd have asked me even if Funnyman and his wife had gone along.” Negan licks his lips. He finds it difficult to resist the urge to prop himself up on his elbows so he can see better. “I think you're looking for a good-ass reason to bring this motherfucker into a setting that's at least semi-romantic, and what better way than a nice dinner? I think you're asking me out on a _date_.”

Rick's eyes are no longer half-lidded, but otherwise, he doesn't look bothered by Negan's suggestion. What a pity, because making this guy react in weird ways has kind of become a source of entertainment for Negan. What more do you expect from a relationship founded on seasickness? But he supposes that's on him for trying to tease the guy in the middle of a goddamned massage.

“...Is that what you want it to be?” Yeah, okay, _there's_ Rick. _There's_ the sassy little fucker who has kept Negan guessing pretty much since they'd met in that hallway. How cute of him to take Negan's accusation and throw it back into his face.

And the worst part is, Negan finds himself analyzing it. _Is_ that what he wants it to be? If he thinks about last night, all the signs point to 'yes'. No matter how fleeting or stupid or reckless it might be, he's interested in Rick in some way or another. He remembers standing outside of Rick's stateroom door, just wishing he'd throw caution to the wind and usher him into his room to take exactly what he wants, and yes, under that memory, he kind of _does_ want it to be a date.

He calls Rick's bluff, somehow still sporting that grin from moments ago. “You know what? Maybe I fucking do. Maybe I want to see how you fill out a fancy suit, Rick. Maybe my dick is getting a little hard just thinking about it.” He notices that one of the masseuse's movements is a little more rough just then, and he shoots the silent worker a glare.

But none of that matters, because he's finally succeeded in getting his desired reaction. Rick's scowling at him, and Negan can tell he wishes he had something to launch at him, or that he wasn't just out of arms' reach so that he could sock him. You're gonna have to get used to Negan taking it too far, Rick...

“Point is,” Negan continues, despite Rick's expression, “yeah, let's make it one. Doesn't have to go any further if you're not into that. But if you're gonna humor me, I'll be goddamned fucking sure to make it worth every last precious second of the sweet vacation time you keep giving to me.”

Rick just rolls his eyes, and Negan considers it a victory.

\- - - - -

After a handful of hours in the thermal suite, Negan exits with Rick, feeling about fifty pounds lighter. His muscles are all loose and wobbly, in the best way possible. Negan is on cloud fucking nine. And judging by the way Rick is walking, he's right there with him on it.

They stop in the hallway leading to the atrium, where there's a schedule and a map displayed on the wall. According to it, they'll be stopping in Progreso tomorrow morning, and then departing that afternoon, and arriving at Cozumel the next morning. Negan hadn't even realized they'd be making two stops in Mexico, but whatever.

Either way, the map shows them well into the gulf, and it's pretty cool to look at. It says they're traveling at twenty-one knots right now, which Rick apparently is about to comment on, because he's pointing to it just as someone crashes into him from behind. Rick stumbles forward, because the impact is pretty rough, and Negan breaks his fall with a hand on his shoulder. He gawks over the slightly smaller man just in time to see a short little blonde girl pick herself up off the ground. The girl grunts out an apology and dusts herself off.

“Beth?” By now, Rick has turned around and is facing the girl. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I'm fine.” The supposed Beth replies with a soft smile. “Sorry for runnin' into you, Rick. No offense, but I'm glad it was you and not a total stranger.”

“None taken.” Rick laughs. “What're you runnin' for, anyway?”

“You know Noah from the dance team?” Beth asks, and even if Rick doesn't, Negan recognizes the name from the shirts the dancers all wore last night. Regardless, Beth keeps going. “I was racin' him because we made a bet. I dunno where he went, though. He's real fast...”

“You're definitely headed the wrong way, Princess.” Negan chips in, grinning down at her. He thumbs the hallway behind him. “Only thing this way's the spa, and I don't think they're gonna let a couple of kids running around all apeshit in there.”

Beth glances back and forth between Rick and Negan, before turning her focus to the former. “...Who's he?”

“This is Negan.” Rick motions toward him with a sway of his head. “Don't take most of what he says seriously. He thinks he's cool.”

“I'm cool as _shit_.” Negan adds, before Beth snickers.

“You're the guy Maggie was talkin' about.” The little blonde comments admidst her own laughter. “The real loud one with the crush on Rick.” There's a sly grin on her face. “Oh, did I say that out loud? Anyway,” She smiles warmly back at Rick, “I'm gonna to see where that guy ran off to. If you see him, tell him I win!”

And then, she's gone. Just like that. Negan isn't sure if she was trying to embarrass him or play matchmaker with her last comment, but it all gets blown to the wayside by one simple question. “...The fuck did they bet on?”

Rick and Negan actually go their separate ways at that point, as they've only got a few hours to themselves before the formal dinner Rick has told him about. Apparently, they're supposed to meet at six at some snazzy cafeteria on the same floor as the comedy club.

Negan spends his time exploring. He finds the restaurant Rick's talking about, and then parades the rest of the floor. Not far from the comedy club is a small arcade, and beyond that is a library and a coffee shop. The end of the hallway opens up into the casino, where Negan spends an hour or so playing. At the very least, he's nice enough to use his own money this time.

He departs the casino with two shots of tequila in his system and returns back to his stateroom to get ready for the dinner he's been invited to. Negan might strongly favor his leather jacket and biker boots, but he's not incapable of dressing up nicely, either. He's not about to go all-out like the suit he was joking about Rick being in earlier, mostly because he hadn't thought to pack something like that for a fucking _cruise_. But he's got something that might be considered _pretty_ snazzy in mind.

It's simple, really. Negan just looks good in a whole fucking hell of a lot of black. He showers, and then layers himself up with a black polo, black slacks, and black dress shoes. Slick the hair back, make sure the eyes stand out, and you've got one fine looking motherfucker waiting to make your panties fall off.

Despite that, Negan finds himself taking his sweet time with it. Maybe it's because he knows he's got enough time to do so, or maybe it's because he's anticipating what's coming up. What's Rick going to look like? Is he going to show up in a suit? God, let him show up in a suit. Negan doesn't care if he's under-dressed, but fuck if he isn't curious to see how Rick fills out a suit.

His imagination is surprisingly good at filling in the blanks. It's hard to forget that face. Really, all Negan has to worry about after that is what color suit he might be wearing. Dark blue? Black? Damn, would Rick ever look good in some black. Layer a blue button-up under that jacket and...fuck...

The bad thing about having extra time is that Negan's thoughts have a chance to wander. He's sitting on the edge of his bed as he tries to put together what Rick's going to look like, entering the room looking slick as fuck. Staring Negan down with those baby blues, opening his mouth to make some quip in that gravelly accent of his. And then Negan thinks he wants to ravage him—to just shove him up against the wall with its tacky pattern, dig is hand into Rick's pants, and watch him come undone right in front of him.

What would those blue eyes look like in the middle of something like that, hmm?

Okay, yep, cock's twitching. It's time to change the subject—like, yesterday. Negan glares down at the erection he's starting to see through the crotch of his pants. “Down, boy.” He coos almost gently, before he decides that maybe it's time to do a little more exploring while he waits for it to be time to see just what Rick's wearing. Because honestly, fuck the food right now. Negan just wants to see how good a Rick who thinks he's on a date is going to look.

In the end, Negan finds himself at the foot of the stairs just in front of the restaurant they'll soon be entering. People are starting to file around, but he takes a seat at the fifth step and sips at a glass of scotch he'd picked up along the way. He's been so busy enjoying himself that it isn't until now that he realizes the swaying of the ship really has died down. He hasn't tripped all over himself since morning, and he's starting to think he's setting a record here.

Closer to the door is the little blonde Negan recognizes as Beth , the girl who had collided with Rick earlier. She's wearing a glimmering blue one-piece dress and black heels, and her hair's tied back into a neat bun. She smiles up at the guy she'd been searching for earlier—Noah, yeah, that's it. He smiles back, and Negan smirks a little without thinking.

It's easy to invade someone's personal life when you're by yourself, unfortunately. There isn't much to do when you don't have someone to talk to. But when Negan realizes he's trying to listen into their conversation, he glances away. Off to another side are Rosita and Tara, and Rosita is leaning forward to whisper something into her girlfriend's ear. Going by the nervous laugh from Tara that follows the gesture, it's not exactly public appropriate.

The guy with the Mullet from Chameleon is here, this time standing guard at the entrance to the fancy schmancy dig they're supposed to be entering soon. He looks focused, but not intimidating. Negan wonders if the guy has ever actually broken up any fights or had to escort someone out before. He's got the feeling the guy would crumble if ever put up to the responsibility. But at least he looks the part, and things seem peaceful for now.

“See?” Rick's voice is a fucking gift at this point, and Negan quickly pushes himself to his feet so that he can turn to greet him.

Holy shit.

It's like Negan's fantasy from earlier has come to life. Rick's wearing mostly black—a black suit jacket, black pants, black shoes, and then just the right amount of blue in the form of his undershirt—a vibrant blue that is somehow the exact same fucking shade as his goddamned eyes. They stand out more than ever, and Negan swears it's getting harder to breathe in this stupid fucking corridor all of a sudden. Rick just smiles.

“Told you people-watchin' is fun.”

“Welp, that's it.” Negan deadpans, throwing his hands into the air. “Might as well whip my dick out and slap you in the face with it a couple times right now, because you've got me sold straight the fuck out.” He ignores the stares that he can feel on the back of his neck from others.

Rick looks dumbfounded by that response, though, which makes it easier to not bother with everyone else. He's frozen a few steps up, and when he finally starts to move again, Negan swears he sees Rick fumbling with the breast pocket of his shirt, as if he wishes he had some more napkins.

Thank god he doesn't.

Conveniently, the mullet-bouncer chooses that particular moment to open the doors, and people start filtering in. The subject is effectively changed, and Rick seems satisfied with that for now. But as he passes Negan, the embarrassment shows on his ears and neck. Negan licks his lips, chuckles to himself, and follows along.

The restaurant groups their patrons at the door and then directs them to a numbered table. Apparently, they'll continue to use this table for the duration of their cruise, and that means that Rick and Negan are basically guaranteed a dinner date every single night from here on out. If Negan gets to see Rick looking like he does right now, he sure as shit doesn't mind.

And there's also the fancy food part.

Their server is a dainty-looking woman who introduces herself as Rani. She's got a naturally beautiful smile, and Negan can see why she's got direct contact with passengers. It's only a matter of time before she and Rick have engaged in conversation. In the course of a few minutes, he and Negan both learn that she's from Indonesia, and that she has another couple of months before she will be able to get back home to her family for a while. They also learn that a huge portion of the crew aboard the ship are from countries all over the world.

“You two don't look like brothers...” Rani observes, her accent thick, but her English impeccable. “Friends? Coworkers?”

“I'll go with friends.” Rick says with a laugh, and Negan can tell he's aware he's being watched, because when he sucks on his tongue between his teeth, Rick actually shudders, and Rani clears her throat. “We met yesterday, actually. I'm from Georgia and he's from Nebraska.”

“Oh, I see. This place is wonderful for meeting new people! You'll be seeing a lot of me.” Rani is so friendly that Negan doesn't doubt for a second that she's being honest with them when she says they'll be running into her again. He hopes so, and also kind of feels like a dick for not trying to interact with any of the other staff on here. Simon had said something about the crew being on these ships for six months at a time. Cruising was great, but that had to get miserable after a while, especially when you had to do actual work on one of these things.

In any case, Rani takes their orders and then disappears off to do her job. Negan steals Rick's focus back by speaking up.

“So Rick,” he starts, deciding that since they're officially going on a date, it's time to start getting to know this guy, “what do you do for a living anyway?”

Rick raises both eyebrows, then shrugs. “I'm a sheriff.” He sits back, and Negan likes the way he folds his hands into his lap. He's really trying to treat this like a formal dinner, and Negan wonders how he's not wanting to tear his own clothes off and fuck the shit out of himself right now. “My hometown's small, and not a lot of crazy stuff happens, but it's interesting enough.”

“Yeah?” Negan grins. “So you're just that good-ass kind of fucking guy, then. No wonder you took care of me after I bit your head off for running into me.”

“I didn't run into you—“

“Not the point, Rick.” Negan interrupts, raising a finger into the air. “I'm complimenting you, you know. Talking about how nice you are. And being a sheriff, you're probably a _badass_ , too.

Rick cracks a small smile. “Am I? I think I'm just another guy tryin' to live my life.” There's a pause before he speaks again, and when he does, Negan notices that he's leaning forward, elbows on the table in a gesture Negan wants to tease him about for being impolite. This is a formal dinner, you know. “What about you? I'm not gonna lie here, but I can't put my finger on what kind of line of work a guy like you might be in.”

Negan smirks. “If I told you, I'd have to kill you.” He gets a kick out of the hesitant look on Rick's face, because the guy actually _believes_ him for a second, that he might be some sort of mob-boss or something. Negan looks the part, he supposes, but gang shit's always sounded to him like it carries too much baggage. “Easy, Rick. I'm joking.” He laughs. “I'm a high school gym teacher.”

“ _Really_?” Rick cocks his head, does that fucking squinty thing again, and Negan tries hard not to take offense. Is it truly that surprising?

Negan just squares his shoulders, though. “Yep. A damn fucking good one, too. My kids are _the shit_.”

It's surprising how easily their conversation develops from there. Rick's easy to talk to, even when he's looking at Negan like he'd grown a second head over the whole gym teacher thing. They flow from subject to subject like it's nothing, and it actually feels nice to be able to relax like this around someone who should still be a complete stranger. Negan realizes after they have been brought their food that he wishes the cruise were more than five days long. They're not even halfway through, and Negan suddenly feels like his time is already running out.

Does Rick feel the same way? Is it too much to hope for him to?

The food is really good, too. Negan has ordered some sort of salmon thing drizzled in lemon juice, and even though he's probably had something similar outside of this fancy restaurant, it somehow tastes better in here. Negan's not sure if it's just the atmosphere surrounding them or the fact that it could be cooked a little differently, but damn, it's good. And Rick seems to be enjoying the pasta thing he's ordered for himself. Rani has placed lava cakes and ice cream at their table just in time for them to finish, and she departs with a smile.

Negan notices that there are pillar-like tables scattered about the restaurant. They literally look like pillars sliced off at roughly the same height as the dinner tables, and Negan has assumed their purpose is so that the servers have something to put trays on while they address their patrons' concerns. Partly, he's right. He's seen them use it for that. But once he's taken his last bite of lava cake and ice cream, he realizes that he was somehow so wrong all at the same time.

A bell rings, a sound not unlike the ringing of an old-fashioned store bell when the door opens, and the servers suddenly come sprinting out of from the kitchen. The cooks and even security staff join them, and they all hop up onto the weird pillar-tables. The cafeteria falls silent.

Negan can't even make up the next part. He couldn't have called it for the life of him. He almost slaps himself in the face when Gangnam Style comes on and every single staff member, even those not on a pillar-table, starts dancing. The crew members still on solid ground move to the various guest tables, scooping people up by their hands to join them, and of course, Rani shows up at Negan's and Rick's table. She grins at them, and then pulls them both to their feet, and it's all downhill from there.

The first thought that occurs to Negan is how Rick had been so adamantly against dancing the previous night. How he had stumbled forward and whispered in the goddamn sexiest voice that he _couldn't do this_. It has him watching Rick as the dancing picks up, and he notices that Rick is staring right back. Neither of them are certain they want to do this, but nobody else is protesting, and it honestly looks like a whole hell of a lot of fun.

 _Some formal dinner_ , Negan muses, and it's the last thing he thinks about before he joins in the dance with everyone. He finds himself following the steps of mullet-bouncer, who has gotten onto the pillar in the middle of the restaurant and is _nailing it._ The crowd cheers said mullet-bouncer on in an uproar, and he's either devouring that shit and channeling it into his movements or not paying attention, because his stare is focused straight ahead. It's like this is his moment, and damn, he's taking it.

Negan can't stop himself from jamming a fist into the air and whooping along with the crowd.

And then, like nothing happened, the song finishes and everyone resumes their work. The dancers hop down from their pillar-tables and go back to whatever they were doing, and guests return to their tables. Rick and Negan are left gawking at one another, both out of breath, before Negan steps forth and curls his fingers around Rick's forearm.

“C'mon.” he urges, and Rick follows him out of the restaurant. “I got somethin' we should go see.”

It's a split-second decision, thought up in the heat of the moment. Negan remembers casting a glance at the ship guide when he'd first come aboard, at one of the features scheduled for the second through fourth nights. If they're treating this like a date and not some joke made during a massage, Negan knows just how to finish it off with a bang.

He makes sure they each have a fresh glass of booze in their hands, before he leads them back up to Lido deck. They still have a good half-hour before it starts, but Negan supposes that just gives them time to get a good seat.

And by seat, he means 'lounge chair'. Lido deck has two massive sides. One sports a pool and dance floor, with lounge chairs surrounding it on ascending levels leading up to the above floor. The other is just a pool and lounge chairs, with a big screen above the pool, where the ship promises movies every single night. On the second level are two hot tubs that Negan makes a mental note to try out one night, but for now, he leads Rick to a row of upper-level lounge chairs, where they can see both the pool and the movie screen comfortably.

They take a seat on their chairs, and Negan makes a point to scoot them closer together. He takes a sip of his drink. “And now it's time for the best fucking waiting game you've ever played.”

Rick outright laughs. “...What does that even mean?”

“It means I'm about to blow your fucking mind.”

“Do you even know what you're showing me?” Rick squints again, and Negan grins.

“Not really, but you're just gonna have to sit your pretty little ass down and show me some goddamned faith, Blue Eyes.” Negan's tongue grazes his lips, and he gives himself a little time to get lost in Rick's gaze. That sharp gaze so perfectly accented by his shirt. Hot damn...

“Alright,” Rick teases with a roll of his eyes, “but this better be good.”

It doesn't take long after that for the show to start. Not fifteen minutes after Rick and Negan showed up, people have filed in and taken seats on other lounge chairs. Some are gathered on the rails of the upper deck, and others are standing around, just waiting.

It's a water and light show, and while it's nothing near as grand as outside of the Bellagio in Vegas, it's the fucking bomb anyway. Jets shoot water high up into the air, and lights color both the water and the atmosphere around it, all timed together with an array of different music pieces. The colors glow so brightly that they illuminate the deck around everyone. The white lounge chairs are highlighted in blues and purples and reds all in rapid succession, and when Negan looks over to see just what that looks like on Rick, he sees that Rick is watching him.

How long has he been doing that?

Rick looks tired. Tired and mesmerized and content all bundled up into one little package. Negan recalls that he didn't sleep very well, so he's probably had a pretty long day, himself. But he's smiling, and damn, that smile...

“What the fuck do you think you're looking at?” Negan questions, just barely audible over the music and rushing of the water jets.

“...Just some asshole who almost threw up on me.” Rick muses, and Negan doesn't know how he does it, but that comes across as simultaneously the weirdest and the kindest thing he's heard Rick say thus far. He sounds affectionate, and Negan realizes that this stupid crush thing he has going on for this guy is actually pretty damned mutual. Rick only solidifies this by sliding a hand out off the edge of the chair and brushing his fingertips across the top of Negan's hand.

Negan wants to kiss him, but when he looks up at the man's face as their fingers twine together, he sees that the guy is damn near nodding off right here on the Lido deck, so he doesn't have the heart to. Instead, he raises their clasped hands and rests them atop Rick's thigh, closing his own eyes.

He'd been planning on watching a movie with the guy after the water and light show, but oh well. They can do that another time.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just another day aboard the cruise ship. A little angst, a little hijinks, and sexual tension abound!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally threw in a little angst! This isn't the end of it, either. It's just a little precursor. Hope you guys enjoy!

Negan's initial intent was to visit the casino again in the morning, but apparently, you can only gamble when the ship is at sea, and considering he slept until damn near noon, the ship has already arrived in Progreso and is therefore not presently at sea. It's a fucking shame, but Negan figures there isn't diddly shit he can do about it, so he does something else.

That something else happens to be pestering Rick for a trip out into Progreso, and it doesn't take him long to find himself fully clothed in a white button-up and black slacks, pounding impatiently at Rick's door. As he waits, Negan realizes that there's a good chance Rick is _not_ in his room considering the time, but he keeps trying anyway.

Waiting is easy, because when it comes to Rick Grimes, Negan's mind is in a perpetual state of wandering. The guy always has him thinking. At present, it's about their previous night. How Rick had stirred awake long after the water and light show, and they had walked hand-in-hand back to Rick's stateroom. How he had looked when they had gotten there and he was more than ready for bed. He'd tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes long enough to look up at Negan, but Negan had just laughed it off and told him to take his pathetic ass to bed.

And again, he'd wanted to lean in and kiss the guy. He was willing to bet Rick had the softest lips, and Negan wanted to know what they tasted like. They had been right outside of Rick's room—it wouldn't have taken much for them to both end up in there, doing what Negan had a feeling they both wanted.

But in the end, he had let Rick go to bed. Maybe it was the doubt still creeping its way through his system. He loathes how badly thinking about he and Rick going separate ways after this makes him feel. Wishes the two of them were at least a little closer together. Wants to know what it's like to visit with this guy when they're not in the middle of the sea. Is Rick the type of person who sits on the front porch and drinks beers in the afternoon, or does he work all the time? Does he like his coffee black, or a little coffee with his cream and sugar? Does he cook? Do he and his kids eat dinner as a family? There are so many questions Negan wants to ask, but it almost seems pointless.

“Your door's this one, you know.” Negan recognizes Rick's voice and turns his head to see the other man standing in front of his door, his head nodding in the direction of it. “

“Shit me a river.” Negan rolls his eyes, turning to approach the other man. “I must've gotten lost right after I stepped out of my own fuckin' door five minutes ago.” Either way, when he reaches Rick, a grin splinters its way onto his face. “What've you been up to?”

Rick shrugs. “I had breakfast, and then Maggie and Glenn invited me to climb the rock wall with them. It was pretty fun. Have you been sleepin' all this time?”

Negan scratches the back of his head, and he knows Rick has his answer in that. “Guess I was laid the fuck out last night after they made us dance at that dinner.”

Rick scoffs. “Old man.”

“Fuck you.”

“Anyway,” Negan's comment apparently rolls right off of Rick's shoulders, “what're you doin' at my door?”

Negan nods down the hallway. “Well, we're in Mexico right now. Figured we could go out and see what the place has to offer.” Honestly, Negan didn't do shit for research when it comes to Progreso and Cozumel. Up until recently, he's had no idea they'd be going to Progreso, and he really didn't think he'd get to see much of Cozumel anyway. All this said, he has no idea what they're going into, but he stupidly thinks Rick might know more about this shit than he does.

Rick hesitates, but only briefly. “Not like I've got anything to do right now. Yeah, let's go.”

\- - - - -

Progreso is probably a lot bigger than the little district they're allowed to explore lets on. They ride a bus to some sort of depot that leads out to a street lined with buildings. There are stores and vendors everywhere, from people offering massages to men selling hammocks and clothing and even foods. There are all kinds of things to buy, and once Rick and Negan get done purchasing a few snacks and Rick picks up a shirt for each of his kids, they follow the street out to an opening where the beach is finally visible.

The part of the beach that they can access is lined with shorefront patio tables, all seated comfortably underneath giant white umbrellas. Travelers sit at the tables, some parents watching their children play in the water and others couples with their hands entwined over the tables. A few men in uniform are scattered about the beach, approaching the tables and offering drinks.

Negan spots a table about a quarter mile down the line and nods for Rick to follow him. “How long do we have?”

Rick pulls his phone out of his pocket and looks at it. “...Gotta be back by four, and it's one-thirty right now, so...couple hours before we should head back.”

“...Good.” Negan laughs. “So enough time for a few good-ass drinks on this romantic-as-fuck beach line, watching the kids all play and the college girls and boys eye-bone each other until they forget how real fucking works in the first place.”

Rick's laugh follows. “Do you even know what you're planning on saying half the time?”

“Most of the time.” Negan shrugs. “But no, seriously—how about a couple drinks?”

“Like we've been doing on the ship?” Rick teases.

“Except we got sand and patio tables and the fucking _beach_ , dumbass.”

“I know, I know.” Rick's laughing again. “Yeah, I could use a drink.”

In all honesty, the water in Progreso doesn't look much different from the water they'd seen during embarkation from Galveston Island. They're still in the Gulf of Mexico, so that pretty-ass shit they show on TV or advertise cruises like this one with probably isn't going to happen until they get closer to Cozumel. Still, the ocean breeze is nice and you can actually hear and see birds over here, so that's kind of nice.

Negan flags down one of the workers and requests margaritas for both of them, before he turns to face Rick and nods for the phone the other man has clutched in his right hand. “Alright, Rick. Whip 'em out.” He ignores the look of confusion on Rick's face. “The pictures. I can just tell you're basically father of the fucking year, so I know you've got pictures of your kids. Lemme see.”

Rick pauses, but obeys regardless. Negan hears the click of him unlocking his phone, and then after a little tapping and scrolling, he passes the device across the table. The man in uniform returns and places their drinks before them. Negan hears Rick thank him as he scrolls through.

What he sees are two kids—an older boy, probably in his upper teens, and a girl not older than five years old. The girl has a big smile and a look of perpetual happiness on her face. Her eyes are wide and she's got a stuffed rabbit clutched underneath her arm in nearly every picture. The boy's got long hair and looks like he wants the camera out of his face in almost all of the snapshots. Negan can practically hear the 'ugh, dad, c'mon' just looking at them, and he grins a little as he passes the phone back.

“The boy's got your eyes.” Negan muses as he takes a drink.

“Yeah, and he hates it.” Rick says, smiling. “I mean, I don't blame him. He'd probably like it more if one of his aunts or grandparents didn't comment on it every time we had them for dinner during the holidays. And his girlfriend right now talks about it, too.”

“Fuckin' heartbreaker like his dad, is he?” Negan jokes, and he laughs when he sees the way Rick's staring at him. It isn't quite disbelief—more like ' _really_?' “Well, this cruise ship thing has basically turned into one big date for you and me, right? Don't fucking look at me that way, Rick, you know I'm right.”

Rick frowns, but he doesn't seem keen on arguing about the matter. Instead, he just tucks his phone into his pocket and focuses on his margarita. It comes in a huge glass, and Negan finds some amusement in watching Rick assess the sheer amount of liquid in it.

“The girl's adorable.” He adds. “She looks like a spitfire.”

“She is.” Rick says amidst a few chuckles. “She'll keep you guessin'. Never lets go of Lucille, though—not even for a second.”

Negan damn near drops his drink with how hard his stomach falls. He swallows down the urge, though, and lowers the drink to the table, before he chokes out a quick “...who?”

“Lucille.” Rick answers. “The stuffed animal she has in her arms in all those pictures you saw. Carl gave it to her when she was born—he'd gotten it from his mom—and it's been a part of her ever since.”

Negan's trying not to let the shock show on his face, because he knows Rick didn't mean to do it. He knows the guy doesn't know shit about his late wife, or the fact that he and said late wife had at one point been trying to have children. That his wife's name had been Lucille, and that she had always talked about wanting a little girl.

But he's never been good at keeping, well, anything to himself.

“...Negan.” Rick's voice almost sounds stern, and Negan fights back the urge to apologize for reasons even he doesn't understand.

Negan steels himself, throwing on one of his usual smirks. “Why're you looking at me like that?” And he has a good point, because Rick's sporting an expression not unlike what one would have worn if they'd seen someone kick a damn puppy.

“...You okay?” Negan often forgets how _soft_ Rick can be, because when the guy asks that question, seeing him like that surprises Negan yet again. It makes him want to open his mouth and just tell him _everything_ , but he also doesn't want to put a damper on their moment. They're supposed to be having a good time on this vacation, after all. There's no point in spilling his guts to a total stranger, anyway.

A total stranger...why does that sound like utter bullshit to Negan? Today would mark the third day he's known Rick. Not even a full three days, and he already feels like he's known the guy for months. It makes him feel this weird mix between pathetic and nervous, and what the fuck is he supposed to do with all that?

Simon would probably tell him to run with it. He'd probably insist that he get that mopey bullshit out of his mind and enjoy the tryst he's engaged on with Rick. Negan can practically see him rolling his eyes and telling him to make the best of the time while he's got it and to worry about everything else that comes afterward.

Jesus fuck, why does this have to get so goddamned confusing?

But man, if Rick doesn't look so fucking concerned about him. Every time Negan looks up at those perplexed blue eyes, he falters. Lucille's name threatens to fall from his lips, and a part of him almost feels like she _wants_ him to talk about her. Hell, that woman is probably snarling down at him right now, screeching about how if he's going to get a boyfriend, he'd better make sure said boyfriend knows all about her.

He smirks up at the distant sky on the horizon, thinking about how hard Lucille would be laughing at him for being like this right now, and that's what brings him back to the surface. His gaze shifts from sky blue to Rick's eyes blue, his grin never leaving his lips in the process. “Don't go worrying about _me_ , Rick. This motherfucker's been through way worse than a margarita-induced brain freeze.”

Rick's head cocks so slowly that the sight grips tightly onto Negan's vision, and he finds himself mirroring the gesture. And then those blue eyes narrow and Rick flicks some salt from around his glass across the table at him. “That was _not_ a brain freeze. You _know_ the stereotype about southerners and their IQ is bullshit, right?”

“Yeah, actually,” you're a living testament to that fact, Rick, “I do. But you know what? I'm still gonna tell you it's a brain freeze, so don't waste your fucking breath trying to get me to say any-goddamned-thing else, alright?”

Negan thinks this is the closest to a serious conversation he and Rick have ever had, and he sees it in the way Rick doesn't believe him, but pays enough attention to Negan's expression to know that they need to stop talking about it now. Negan just knows he's respectful enough to honor that wish, so he's not all that surprised when Rick sighs and drops the subject, and the uncomfortable thickness in the air disappears with it.

“So what do you think?” Rick asks.

Negan just raises an eyebrow, because the question is so vague that he figures Rick has somewhere he's going with it.

“The beach, I mean.” Rick scratches at the bridge of his nose with his thumb, and then takes a drink of his margarita. “Progreso. Mexico.”

“Fuck if I know.” Negan scoffs, but he actually appreciates Rick's feeble attempt at changing the subject. “A, there's not a whole lot we're allowed to see, which I get, because a bunch of fucking tourists like us would drive some natives batshit crazy. And B, we just got to the beach, so...”

“Everyone else seems to like it so far.” Rick thinks aloud, nodding to the kids squealing and flinging sand at one another. Hell, they're probably just excited to be off the boat for a while. A cruise ship is fun as shit for adults, but kids don't have as much to do, so they've probably been bored out of their poor skulls while Mommy and Daddy went to see comedy shows and got drunk at bars and fucked in bathroom stalls.

Rick's started out with some pretty bullshit small talk, but in the end, they're actually engaged in full conversation again. Talking about the beachgoers ends up leading into making fun of tourists, and the next thing they know, they're two giant margaritas down the line and laughing shamelessly at their table. For the soft-spoken gentleman Rick is, Negan sure has him giggling pretty hard right now, with a rather spot-on impression of the big white tourist from Lilo and Stitch, which they have both decided is an amazing movie.

“You gotta stop...” Rick is pleading, tears in his eyes. “I just drank two of the biggest cocktails I think I've ever seen.”

Negan stops that impression, but does not quit altogether. Instead, he grins. “Are you telling me you can't hold your liquor? Are you begging me, or is it your bladder? Challenge fucking accepted, Rick. I'm gonna make you piss yourself.” And then he sits back, clears his throat, and makes his mouth into a very exaggerated 'o' shape, because Simon has told him he does one hell of a Donald Trump impression.

“Personally, I think that this is a good beach. It is a very good beach that I think a lot of people will go to. Except for the people who don't, and they won't, and we'll deal with them accordingly. But a lot of people will go to this beach.”

Negan can't say he's heard, in all the three days he and Rick have spent together, this man laugh so hard. Rick is doubled over on the table, presumably trying his hardest not to wet his pants, as he practically howls in response to Negan's fourth impression so far. With the alcohol in his system, his face is an amusing shade of red, and it only gets better when he flops off the table and onto the sand.

And then Negan's laughing too, as he stands up and walks around the table to look down at his grounded partner. Rick is on his back, clutching at his stomach with one hand and trying to wipe away tears with the other. He opens his eyes just in time to meet Negan's when the man stands over him. Negan smirks down at him and moves to crouch next to him.

“Now, I could get used to seeing you on your back like this for me...” He licks his lips, and Rick just laughs harder. What the fuck did they put into those margaritas?

“You never shut up. Jesus, Negan!” He rolls sideways, and Negan doesn't see what he's going to do until it's too late. In an instant, Rick's got a hand on the front of Negan's shirt and is pushing him down onto his back, too.

Sand flies everywhere as the two men suddenly become very involved in a wrestling match on the ground. They're panting and grinning and tugging at arms and shirts and Negan knows that neither of them really know what they're going for. Either way, it doesn't stop until Rick curls his leg around one of Negan's and they realize just how intimate their little match has gotten. They're lying side-by-side in the sand and Rick's still laughing, and Negan's kind of really fucking goddamned mesmerized by the sight of a sand-covered Rick Grimes.

The laughter ceases seconds after their match does, and they just lie there, looking at one another. Negan sees Rick's eyes move from his own to his lips, down to his chest and arms, and back up. He swallows nervously, and then releases a sigh, propping his head up on his hand.

“Go take your piss.” Negan tells him.

\- - - - -

It's odd, how getting back on the ship somehow feels like coming home after a long day out. Negan and Rick have both come to the decision that it's time for showers and a nap, so they retire to their own staterooms for just that. Negan's by himself and all the way through his shower when his mind starts to wander.

He's being ridiculous for thinking it, but what are the fucking odds that he'd run into someone whose kid carries a doll around named 'Lucille'? Maybe it's just how much he enjoys the guy's company or some shit, but his mind is practically begging for him to believe it's because the two of them were fated to run into one another, or some cheesy bullshit like that. Nevermind the short time frame or how cliché the whole goddamned thing has been, because all Negan's mind wants to think matters is those blue eyes and that earnest personality and just how fucking great Rick is to be around.

Negan doesn't believe in God. Maybe he'd questioned it throughout his young life, but right around the time that Lucille's death became a factor, he threw any semblance of belief in all that out with the trash. It's hard to think that she's watching over him as a result, but right now, it's something he can't get out of his mind. Like she's calling to him, a la ' _fucking get your shit sorted out, Negan, before I come down there and make you_ '.

And it's so pathetic, because this is a vacation. Nothing more. It's just a fucking vacation. But Negan closes his eyes and sees Rick's. He looks down at his hands and feels the other man's fingers entwined with his own. He inhales and smells the faint tinge of alcohol on Rick's breath from their first night. He's going to go home, and every time someone says the word 'vacation', he's going to fucking see Rick Grimes.

Negan scoffs to himself when he thinks about Simon bitching about him being mopey again. He can practically hear the guy telling him he almost wishes he hadn't taken him out on that goddamned cruise ship, because he came back ten times worse. And if he does, Negan's going to laugh in his face and tell him that, well, that's what he fucking gets. Asshole.

But the good news is, Negan's not about to back down now. Rick's making this trip so incredibly fun, and he just knows he's not going to have half as good a time as he is right now if he doesn't drag this guy along with him.

Stupidly, he ignores how Rick might feel about the whole thing. But anyone who knows Negan knows that he can be pretty damned self-centered.

Negan doesn't have to bother trying to lie down to realize he's not getting any sleep, so he decides to step out again. In a last-minute realization, Negan grabs the little ziploc baggie with the motion sickness patches in it and starts out of his room. Today's day three, so he should probably have Rick put a new one on for him.

He turns toward Rick's room, but stops short. Has Rick gone to sleep yet? Hell, the guy was up a lot earlier than Negan was, so he's probably actually tired. Maybe Negan should give him some time before harassing him. Yeah, just a little time would be alright.

The casino still isn't open, so Negan decides on food. After those margaritas, he could probably use some, anyway. He chooses the burger stand on Lido, and then takes a seat in one of the lounge chairs as he eats. The party deck isn't riddled with people anymore, as most of the passengers are either just settling back into being on the ship or sleeping in their staterooms until the fun begins later at night.

It's mostly children and their parents, and Negan recognizes two of them as the little kids who were flinging sand at one another on the beach in Progreso. Now, they're splashing one another relentlessly with water while their mother reminds them to watch out for other people every so often.

The ship is just now heading back out to sea, and it has to be at least a mile out from the water before the casino will open back up. Negan wonders if maybe he and Rick should try to go there this evening. Or maybe they should hit up the little bar at the bottom of the atrium, with the bands. Or they could even come back up here to Lido later on, get a little drunk, try a second time at getting that motherfucker to dance. Negan had seen him do so at the dinner, after all. He just needs to be a little more persuasive...

“Whoa, shit!” Negan jumps when Simon's voice yanks him out of his thoughts, and without thinking, he launches a french fry at his friend. Said friend dodges it and plops down into the chair next to Negan. “He's actually out of his room.”

“Fuck you. I've _been_ out of my room most of this trip.” Negan deadpans. “I used your money on a spa, by the way.”

“You would.” Simon rolls his eyes. “But I planned on you wasting my money on bullshit, so the joke's on you. How much of it did you blow, anyway?”

Negan raises two fingers. “I booked a visit for two at the thermal suite. Was good as hell, so I wouldn't necessarily consider it a waste. You should try it.”

Simon's face lights up in a way Negan doesn't expect, amusement at the very forefront of his expression. “Two? You take that crush of yours along?”

Negan rolls his eyes so hard that his head moves with the gesture. “Why in the fuck do you have to word it like that? His name's Rick, asshole.”

“What the fuck ever.” Simon shrugs. “So where's he at, now?”

“He's in his room.” Negan pops a fry into his mouth. “We had some drinks at the beach a bit ago, so he's probably sleeping that shit off. How about you? Did you go inland any?”

“Nope.” Simon laughs. “Cozumel's what I'm looking forward to. The Caribbean waters are apparently the coolest shit ever.” He steals a fry from Negan's plate and takes a bite. “You and your boyfriend going?”

Negan raises an eyebrow. “Simon.”

He can tell his friend thinks he's about to be scolded. “Chill out, man, it's a joke.”

Negan swallows and shakes his head. “...No, uh...let's go somewhere so we can talk.”

\- - - - -

The decision to talk to Simon in private about Rick is a split-second one, so Negan doesn't actually know what all he's going to say. What he does know, however, is that if there's anyone he can talk to about it, it's Simon. Negan's not crazy about getting sentimental with anyone, but if he's going to be all fucking confused about shit, he knows he can count on this guy to get his ass back in line and send him on his way.

They've settled on the adult lounge, as Lido deck has started to fill up again. They're both sitting on loungers, alcohol in hand, and Simon is wearing an expression that somehow mates bemusement and relaxation. He's sporting a pair of aviators that Negan snorts over when he sees them.

“You look fuckin' ridiculous.” Negan teases. “You gotta take that shit off, man.”

“Not a chance.” Simon's grinning, and Negan can't tell which way he's looking through the darkness of his shades. As far as he's concerned, the dude's just staring straight ahead. “The sun's in my eyes.”

“You're fucking crazy if you think they look cool on you.” Negan teases. “Take 'em off.”

“Uh, dude? I just told you the sun's in my eyes.” Okay, now Negan can feel Simon's gaze on him, and that's kind of reassuring. At least now he knows he has his friend's attention instead of, well, whatever else he's looking at behind those glasses. “Anyway, why don't we get to the point here and you tell me what it is you wanted to talk about?”

...Right. That.

Now that Negan's here, he isn't so sure he wants to discuss it. He's been perpetually on the fence about the whole thing ever since Simon brought it up yesterday morning. One minute, he's saying 'fuck it' and wanting to dive headfirst into it, no matter how destructive the whole thing is. The next, he's questioning the point, and knowing full-well that he's setting both himself and Rick up for disaster. He knows he's already going to miss the guy, considering he's literal shit at being away from him for more than just a handful of hours, so he can only imagine what Rick's going to go through, too.

He thinks about what Rick is going to do when he gets home. He can imagine the guy's going to want to talk about Negan to his kids, but...what the hell can he say? It's not like they're gonna get to meet him? And what about his friends back home? Ugh, what a damn mess...

“Earth to Negan.” Simon's starting to sound a little impatient, so Negan bucks up and forces himself to say something.

“He's got kids.”

“...So?” Negan looks over at Simon just in time to see one of his friend's dark eyebrows pop up over the massive lenses of his shades. “Are his kids here or somethin'?”

“No.” Negan shakes his head. “It's just...fuck, Simon. He's got a little girl, showed me some pictures of her. She carries this doll around, all choked up underneath her armpit and shit.”

“Are you fawning to me over kids you've never actually met?” Negan hates how palpable the disbelief in his friend's voice is.

“The doll's name is Lucille.”

Silence falls over the both of them, and when Negan looks back up at Simon, he's removed his sunglasses. Okay, so he's starting to understand why Negan wanted to talk to him now, at least.

“Negan—“

“That doesn't seem a little fucking off-color to you?” Negan outright asks, and Simon shakes his head, eyebrows furrowing down.

“I don't know?” Negan can tell his friend isn't sure how to take that. “It's a name. A lot of people have those...wait a minute.” Simon sighs so dramatically that Negan suddenly can't make eye contact with him. He almost feels embarrased. “You're not thinking this is some fate bullshit, are you? Negan, come on.”

“I don't have the slightest fucking clue what I'm thinking it is.” Negan answers. “I was hoping you'd be able to give me an outside opinion.”

“Other than that you're losing your damn mind?” Simon questions, taking a swig of his drink. “You've known the guy for three days, Negan. This Lucille thing doesn't mean shit. And you've got to quit doing that woe-is-me routine every single time you think about your dead wife. She's dead, remember?”

“No shit?” Negan mocks. “I half expected her to pop up and scream 'just joking!'. Fuck.”

“You know what I mean.” Simon bites back expertly, because this is a discussion he and Negan have had plenty of times. “You know that woman would knock the shit out of you if she saw you hangin' onto her death like this. You guys didn't get married just so she could die and you cry about it every time you hear her name.”

Negan sighs. “I know.” He drags a hand down across the front of his face. “I've been doing pretty good lately, but what Rick said about his daughter blindsided the fuck out of me. I miss her, you know? And this whole thing almost makes me feel guilty for going after him.”

“Grow up.” Simon says, and this is why Negan likes talking to him about things like this. Negan's always had a penchant for gravitating toward the dramatic, and it applies to damn near everything. Simon's just blunt enough to bring him back to the surface and not come off as a total asshole. “Lucille wasn't the type of woman to tell you you can't move on after her death. In fact, I bet she'd be damn insulted if you kept pulling this shit. If you want to see what to do about the whole thing, why don't you try talking to your boner-buddy about it? What was his name? Rick?”

Negan laughs dryly. “You said it yourself—I've known the guy for three fucking days. Last thing I want to do is scare the poor fucker off. I actually like having him around.”

“I don't think you're gonna scare him off.” Simon's answer comes quickly. “If he didn't like you, he'd have taken off already, trust me. You're the kinda guy people go by first impressions with. Anyway,” he grins a little, and Negan appreciates the subtle humor, “you're not gonna see the guy after a couple more days, so what's the harm in talking to him about it?”

Negan doesn't feel comfortable expressing to anyone right now, even Lucille herself, that Simon's words make him nervous. A part of him hates how quickly this...whatever it is between himself and Rick is moving. But there's another part of him who wishes it would move faster, and then that it would never fucking go away. It's been a long-ass time since Negan could stare into someone's eyes and actually get lost, after all.

He's still kind of holding onto the fate thing, but Simon _has_ made one thing abundantly clear, which is exactly what Negan needed.

He has to move on. He knows this, and he knows it every single time he has this discussion with Simon, but now it's time to reinforce it. He just needs to throw caution to the wind and learn how to not cringe at Lucille's name, or seeing someone wearing clothes she liked, or smelling her perfume. He's got to get past this, and even if he never sees Rick again, he's got to go for whatever this is they've got going.

No more doubt, and no more overthinking. Just have fun, stop being a mope-ass, and be _Negan_.

Simon kicks Negan's lounge chair and Negan spills his drink in the process. He glares up at his friend, who is laughing. Go fucking figure, he's laughing.

“No more of this shit, you hear?” Simon practically sounds like a parent to Negan right now. “This is a _vacation_.”

\- - - - -

Negan and Rick are indoors, now, on the floor of what looks like a massive gym. At present, it's occupied by adult men and women, all wearing either swimsuits or shorts and a T-shirt. Negan and Rick have chosen opposite sides of the gym, and the coach has a hand raised into the air. He whistles, and the dodgeball round begins.

Negan's impressed by how quickly Rick moves, sliding and ducking his way around incoming attacks. He finds himself picturing the other man during his time in the police academy, dodging, well, whatever the fuck they learned to dodge during all that. Did he train in shorts and a T-shirt like this back then? Did his eyes gleam with that same determination he's wearing right now? Goddamn, he looks good.

Negan's good at what he does too, though. Being a gym teacher has its benefits here, and he's effectively knocking out more than his fair share of people. Rick's his target every now and then, but he's missed every single time with him so far.

Rick is agile, and it shows here. His calf and thigh muscles are toned, and it makes him fast on his feet. Negan's not the only one having trouble getting him, and it actually surprises the fuck out of him when he gets knocked out before Rick does.

The ball hits him square in the stomach, so hard that it knocks the breath from his lungs for a moment, and he's so shocked by it that he looks up, trying to find the culprit. Said culprit waves eagerly at him, and he recognizes her to be none other than Carol. She just smiles, and he can't help but shake his head and laugh at her. He mouths 'I'll get you back', before moving to take his seat on the bleachers.

Rick stays in the game, he and Carol working together with surprising ease to take out the others. Negan spots Maggie on his own team, just in time to see her finally get Rick with a ball of her own, and Rick stumbles back and collapses onto the ground, laughing. He moves to his own bench, and then looks from his over to Negan.

How'd they end up playing dodgeball again? Either way, Rick doesn't seem to mind. He's still watching Negan from his side of the gym, and Negan can't help but roll his eyes. He stands up without missing a beat, and moves to take a seat on the bench next to the other man. Over the reverberation of the flying dodgeballs, Negan tries to make himself heard to Rick.

“So, what're you planning on doing tonight?” He asks, and Rick leans back, thinking about the question.

“Not sure yet. Tonight's the last night that Glenn and Tara perform, so I figured we could go see them one more time.”

'We', because Rick thinks of them as a unit, too. Negan's glad he isn't the only one, and he kind of laughs at the thought.

“That doesn't sound bad. Maybe reminisce a little from night one by goin' out to Lido afterward and seeing what music's playing.” He smirks. “I'm determined to get your ass dancing, Rick. You should see the way you were moving just now, out on that gym. If I hadn't been trying so fucking hard to keep from getting hit, I'd have probably gotten an erection.”

“You never stop, do you?” Rick laughs.

“Not even for one fucking second.”

\- - - - -

Not unlike their first night, the comedy show is entertaining as hell. Glenn and Tara are impressive, with how much material they've managed to come up with for just one cruise. Negan thinks to all the comedians he's seen on TV, whose material repeats in different shows, and he's impressed to see that there isn't much of that. He and Rick are back in their seat almost at the front of the stage, this time with not only Maggie sitting with them, but Rosita and Beth and Noah as well. The couch is almost crowded, but Negan doesn't mind. He likes sitting with his thigh pressed up against Rick's, and he places a hand on the guy's knee halfway through the show.

By the time Tara and Glenn are doing their final show together, Rick's got Negan's hand in his own and he's offering drinks of his long island iced tea to him. Negan looks down at him to see that he's not all that drunk, but he's definitely feeling pretty good. He figures that if they sit down for much longer, Rick's going to start leaning on him. Not that he minds.

Beth and Noah are the ones to lead the way out once Glenn and Tara have reunited with their respective partners. They all file into the elevator in a crowd, and Negan's half-expecting one of them to suggest a Conga line or something. Thank every fucking diety in metaphorical existence that nobody actually does. That isn't the type of dancing he's going for.

Unlike the first night, the dance isn't led by Aaron and his crew. Negan's got two of them in his little ragtag gang here, and he can see the other two mingling along with the crowd. The music's going, but the song is a slower one, and most people are just hanging out and talking, drinks in hand and laughter filling the area.

Almost as fluidly as the ocean the ship's coasting along right now, the group from the elevator disperses. Beth and Noah disappear first, and then Tara and Rosita head up to the upper Lido deck. Maggie and Glenn blend in with the group, and by the time the song has ended, it's just Negan and Rick, standing a few feet from the wall dividing the dance floor and the buffet. They both move to lean against the wall, and Negan shakes his head when a woman offers him a drink. Rick follows suit and thanks her as she walks off.

Now that they're not chattering or bearing witness to comedy or rolling around in sand, Negan's mind has a chance to wander again. He thinks about what Simon suggested, and decides that he's most definitely going to bring it up to Rick one day, but today isn't that day. Maybe tomorrow. But for now, they're just going to have one hell of a good time.

He turns his head to look at Rick, and his throat clenches. Rick looks so good, still wearing the white T-shirt he'd been wearing during dodgeball, but with jeans so blue they bring out the color in his eyes. God, why does he always have to wear something that accents his eyes?

And Rick is so oblivious to Negan watching him. The song that's playing actually has people moving now, and the lights are bouncing off of his face and eyes as he watches. He's so casual, with his hands on his hips, gaze focused straight ahead. How Negan wants to turn, stand directly in front of him, and get all that delicious attention focused on him instead...hell, how Rick can't feel Negan's stare on him right now is mind-blowing.

He can't take standing still any longer, though. Not with Rick looking so perfect right the fuck next to him. So he leans in close enough that Rick can hear him over the music and wets his lips before speaking.

“Come here, Rick.” He urges, and he practically feels Rick shudder next to him as his hand slides down along the other man's arm, down to his wrist, where he tugs gently. “C'mon, you don't have to dance unless you're feeling it. Just...get over here.”

Rick obeys, much to Negan's delight, and turns until he's standing directly in front of him. There's a look of excitement on his face—an undeniable curiosity, and a longing for Negan to hurry up and take this to the next level already. Three fucking days or not three fucking days, they've both been waiting for something like this since day one, so it's no surprise Negan isn't the only one pining.

He slides his arms around Rick's body, daring to tuck his fingers into the pockets on the back of his jeans. Using this grip, he pulls the other man clear up against him. Rick's breath hitches, and his eyes lock onto Negan's.

Rick's hands find Negan's chest, and he shudders into the contact as the man's fingers slide up and move along his shoulders, and then curl around the back of his neck. He's grinning just slightly, a look that goes straight to Negan's groin. “That hard-on you've been workin' on the past few days is gonna die if you see me dance, Negan. No lie.”

“You think so?” Negan laughs. He frankly doesn't care. Rick could do just about any fucking thing at this point and Negan would find it arousing. Either way, he uses his grip on Rick's ass to start up a gentle swaying to the rhythm of the music. “What if I just lead you? Can't fuck up much if I'm in control. Trust me, Rick.”

He sees Rick's throat bob almost nervously, but the guy's following along nonetheless. So far, so good. “You gotta quit sayin' stuff like that.”

“Like what?” Negan wonders aloud. He's vaguely aware of the close proximity between them—how their faces are only a handful of inches apart.

“Askin' for me to trust you.” Rick says, tilting his head, and Negan can feel him playing with the hair on the back of his head. He shudders, fingers stuttering a little in the pockets of the other man's pants. “You're makin' me feel like we've known each other for way more than a few days.”

Negan doesn't say it aloud, but he thanks fuck that he's not the only one who feels that way. That whatever this is is taking off like a bottle rocket, and there's no fucking stopping it. Rick's looking up at him almost as if he expects Negan to do something, and fuck if he doesn't want to.

“ _Do_ you?”

“What?”

“Trust me. Do you?” Negan's back is completely against the wall, and sighs pleasantly when he feels Rick's chest against his own. Their swaying suddenly gives way to a bold little rock of the hips from Blue Eyes, which elicits a sharp gasp from Negan.

“I don't know.” Rick smiles, and Negan notices he's leaning in closer. He dares to meet the movements of Rick's body with mirrored ones of his own. He feels Rick's hands slide up under his arms and brace against the wall behind him. “Maybe. Startin' to feel like yeah.”

“Either that, or you're drunk.” Negan teases, just as the music shifts and the pace quickens. He finds his own hands sliding out of Rick's pockets and moving to grasp tightly at the shirt around his waist, pulling him harder against him. Their movements grow a little erratic in time with the music, and he leans in close. He can feel Rick's breath against him, and god, is he ever warm...

“Guys!”

Really?

Fucking _really?_

Rick pulls away first, recognizing Glenn's voice. Negan straightens his shirt out a little, tries to will the flush on his neck down, and waits patiently to see what the guy wants. “...Yeah?” Rick asks.

“Uh, sorry for interrupting,” Glenn clears his throat awkwardly, “but I'm really in need of your help. Can you come with me?”

Rick looks apologetic as he glances back to Negan, who is scratching the back of his neck. He's not gonna lie, his dick is fucking _aching_ for more Rick Grimes, but he follows along as Rick takes Glenn's lead.

They're directed into the cafeteria, to a corner where Maggie's got Beth sitting at a table. Maggie's standing in front of the blonde, her arms crossed and a very unimpressed look on her face. It's almost like they're related.

“...Think now's a good time to tell you they're sisters.” Rick clarifies, and Negan nods in understanding. Either way, he glances to Maggie as Rick instead addresses her. “What's goin' on?”

“Maggie thinks that since Daddy ain't around, she can parent me.” Beth comments, clearly irritated. Her own arms are crossed over her chest as well.

“She and that Noah boy were kissin'.” Maggie adds.

Beth cuts in before Rick can speak. “I'm an adult, Maggie. I can do what I want.”

Negan can tell Rick doesn't really want to argue with that logic, but as a parent himself, he's probably got some opinions on the whole matter. Lucky for him, Glenn decides to help fill in the blanks. Like Rick, he doesn't seem keen on choosing a side.

“Maggie's worried because she's afraid Beth is moving too fast, and Beth says it's just 'messing around'. They've been at this argument for a solid ten minutes, now.”

Rick faces Negan for a minute. “...Can you help me with this?”

Negan really wants to not-so-politely remind Rick that he's not Doctor Fucking Phil, but those eyes, as per goddamned usual, bore right into his skull, and how can Negan turn down a stare like that? “...You're gonna have to tell me what the fuck you've got in mind, Rick.”

The appreciation shows on both Rick's and Glenn's faces, as Rick nods to Beth. “You, come with me. Maggie, go with Glenn and Negan.”

Maggie doesn't look keen on that idea at all, but she seems to bear some unexplained trust in Rick, so she obeys regardless. The objective is simple, as Rick has explained it at least: Negan is to let Maggie do whatever it takes to get her frustration off her chest, and if he feels compelled to give her advice, then fine. Hopefully, by letting both girls vent separately, they can approach one another calmly.

Does that shit actually work for siblings?

Either way, Negan obeys. He and Glenn take Maggie upstairs, to that particular table Negan had sat at yesterday. The lights and music can be faintly noticed from there, which Negan finds kind of soothing. He takes a seat on one side, and Glenn sits down next to him, unable to meet his wife's gaze. She's probably pissed that he went to retrieve Rick's help.

“Alright, big sister.” It's easy enough to tell she's the older one. “Let 'er rip.”

Clearly, Maggie feels about the same as Negan does on the whole 'not being Doctor Phil' thing, because there's a lot of hesitation before she says anything. When she does finally open up, she's livid, as if Negan's the culprit instead of her baby sister.

“Do you have siblings?” Maggie asks curtly, but before Negan can answer, she continues. “Do you know how hard it is to get your heart broken? How _mean_ guys can be?”

Negan scoffs to himself, because of course he does. He's not exactly the poster child for good behavior. Maggie doesn't seem to notice, though, because she's already on a tangent. Negan looks over at Glenn, who shrugs and mouths an apology.

“She's gonna hook up with this guy during this little vacation, and then she's gonna be devastated when they gotta separate in two days. She's the type of girl who falls hard and fast, and she's gonna be desperate to have him back. He's a nice guy, but it just ain't meant to be.” Maggie's finally starting to relax, so maybe Rick's plan is working. “I just _know_ she's gonna think it's a good idea to follow her heart and run off with the guy, and Daddy's gonna be _pissed_.”

Negan attempts to speak again, but Maggie cuts him off once more. “What doesn't she get about the fact that this is five days out of an _entire life_? It ain't supposed to mean nothin'.”

Yeah...it isn't. But sometimes, it does. Negan wonders if what he and Rick are going through right now is the same as what Beth and Noah are going through, just with...a more impulsive party. Selfishly, he entertains the thought of running off to Georgia with Rick, but he quickly shoots that one down. He's not some teenager. This is probably all some honeymoon phase bullshit that will go away a few weeks after the cruise is over.

“She won't let me get a word in edgewise to tell her.” Maggie finishes. “Or else maybe she'd get it.”

Negan laughs softly and shakes his head. “Maybe. But she's young. You know how that shit goes. Just keep in mind you've got a couple more fucking days to convince her to think with her brain instead of her heart.”

“Maybe.” Maggie doesn't seem convinced, but at least she isn't yelling anymore. Negan can't hear Beth doing so, either. “But you know how girls are.”

“Do I?” Negan teases, because even though he has a few inklings from the way Lucille behaved, Lucille was also the most unique brand of woman Negan's ever met.

“Oh, come on.” Maggie rolls her eyes. “You're a sleaze. Dunno how Rick don't see it. I just know you've broken a few hearts. Mess with his, though, and I'll fuck you up.”

Negan's chuckling, which pisses Maggie off, but when Glenn starts laughing too, she calms down a bit, shooting her husband an incredulous look.

“I'm too old for that shit anymore.” Negan clarifies, but Maggie doesn't seem convinced. Either way, she decides the conversation is over and heads back downstairs to check on Rick and Beth. By now, Beth has also calmed down, though Negan can see that fire hiding just beneath the surface of her skin. She might be an emotional girl, but he can tell it doesn't make her weak.

At the very least though, the argument is abated. Rick has convinced Beth to listen to what her sister has to say, and the girls eventually end up sitting next to one another, giggling under the resolution that Beth isn't going to go taking off into the sunset with any Prince Charming who decides to scoop her up. She does, however, make it clear that she's going to get Noah's number and pay him visits every now and then just to see if things work out between them.

It's a good idea, in theory. Hopefully, it works out for her in practice.

But with that fight successfully taken care of, both Negan and Rick are both exhausted. Negan briefly contemplates dragging Rick back out onto the dance floor to continue where they left off, but when he sees the sober, sleepy look on the other man's face, he decides against it. They've still got another night after this, right? Besides, Cozumel is in the morning. Rick's probably eager to see what it has to offer, and by now, it's obvious Negan goes where Rick goes, and vice versa.

“...C'mon.” Negan urges, curling an arm around the other man's shoulders. “Let's go to bed.”

\- - - - -

And that puts them here again. Here, standing in front of Rick's stateroom door, staring tiredly at one another. At some point, Rick has taken Negan's hand into his own, but he lets go now, because it's time for him to go to bed.

Right?

Apparently not, because here they are, still fucking standing in the hallway. Negan can make out the faint blue and green shit-carpet in the bottom of his vision, and it's making him even more tired, but he still can't bring himself to walk away. So he clears his throat and opens his mouth to speak.

But Rick gets there first.

“Come to bed with me.” He requests, steely and insistent despite his very obviously sleepy state. But considering Negan was about to offer the same thing, he obliges. Holds out his hand, and watches Rick take it as he unlocks the door.

God, Negan wishes he wasn't so tired. His eyelids are heavy as fuck, or he'd be pinning Rick down on that bed and making him his right now. But he really _does_ feel like an old goddamned man as he's directed to the bed and simply crawls atop it. He sheds his shirt somewhere in the mix, and then his pants, and in a matter of moments, he's under the thick sheets of Rick's comforter. He feels the other man's warm body slip in next to him.

Rick faces him, and just scoots in close. There are no words exchanged between the two men. Rick just finds his head against Negan's shoulder and slides an arm lazily around his waist, while Negan supports Rick with his arm.

Yeah, Negan could kiss him. God, he could have two nights ago. But fuck if he isn't tired. He's somewhere between resolving to deal with that in the morning and wondering what their last night is going to have to offer when he finally drifts off.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter's gonna be a big one, probably in length and in content. I'm super excited to get it out to you guys, and I would also like to extend a huge thank you to all of you who have read and left feedback. <3 You people are a huge part of the reason I write!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys visit Cozumel and Negan realizes yet again how attached to Rick he's getting. He decides it's probably about time he started doing as Simon requested and talking to Rick about everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, this chapter is a monster! There was so much to write, haha! But I hope you all like it! This is one of the chapters that I had planned from the very beginning, and building up to it was the single hardest thing I've ever written in any of my works.
> 
> Enjoy, guys! Thank you so much!

“Fuck...”

When Negan wakes up, it's still dark inside the stateroom. There's an alarm clock on Rick's side of the bed that displays the numbers '03:31' in bright red LED digits.

His stomach is turning again, and he knows why. He'd forgotten over the course of yesterday's excitement to have Rick help him put on a new seasickness patch. And now that the one he's currently got on is all but fucking useless, he's suffering the consequences of his forgetfulness.

With Rick fast asleep and Negan's stomach threatening to come up all over the sheets, it's easy for him to hate boats all over again. He almost feels like he's back at square one, to the first day, when he was doubled over the railing on Lido deck. Any minute, he could be that same embarrassing person throwing up right in front of Rick all over again.

Can he make it back to his own stateroom in time? Is it sad that he's genuinely contemplating trying in order to avoid that humiliation all over again?

He knows he can't really bear to stir Rick right now, who looks like the very example of peacefulness. Negan would be more of a prick than usual to wake that sleeping motherfucker, even if it's on accident. He's on his side, facing Negan, and completely unaware of the other man's plight. He's got one hand held out toward Negan's side of the bed, which tells him that they've been clasping hands like teenagers all damn night. In any case, he looks so damned perfect that Negan thinks it'll be a fucking shame to ruin that image with a little puke.

So yeah, he has a good reason for wanting to try and make it back to his room instead of tossing his cookies in here.

Rick's probably gonna wonder what in the fuck sent him off, though. Negan, despite this just barely being the fourth day knowing this guy, legitimately feels a pang of guilt when he thinks about Rick waking up alone and wondering what compelled his bedmate to change his mind about sleeping with him.

So what the fuck does he do? Sit here and mentally deliberate until he inevitably hurls right here in the bed, or get up and make a beeline for the door? It's when Negan's stomach lurches yet again that he settles on the latter. He's in his underwear and his key card is in the pocket of his pants, so he's going to have to take the time to rifle through his pockets, too.

When he gets to his feet, however, he realizes that he's not going to make it to the door, let alone find his pants. So he goes straight for Rick's bathroom and drops to his knees in front of the toilet just in time.

Yep, this sucks all over again. Negan feels weak and tired, and he hasn't gotten near enough sleep after they stayed up so goddamned late the previous night defusing what had damn near been a bomb going off between siblings. And that kiss they almost had...

Negan's in the process of thinking about how far his pants are from here when Rick's voice interrupts him.

“...Negan? What the hell?”

Despite the potential tone of the question, when Negan turns to look at the other man, all he sees on that sleepy face is concern. Rick's hair is mussed to the side a little from the way he was lying down, and his gaze is hazy with sleep, but he still somehow manages to center on Negan and take the damn time to _worry_ about him. Negan can't help but shake his head.

“Don't fucking look at me like that, Rick...” Negan practically groans, as he reaches up to flush the toilet. He doesn't move away from it, though. He can feel the boat swaying beneath his weight, and he doesn't trust his stomach to give him so much as a second to himself right now. “I'm fine.”

“You have too much to drink last night?” Rick questions, still in the doorway.

“Nope.” Negan chuckles ruefully. “Just forgot to change out that stupid fucking patch yesterday.” He's inwardly dwelling over the fact that he's going to have to survive a few hours of this feeling while he waits for the next patch to work. Which, yeah, he's going to have to convince Rick to put on for him again.

“...Shame on you.” Rick teases.

“Shut up.” Negan rolls his eyes, immediately regretting the decision when it makes him dizzy and his stomach jumps about two inches too close to his esophagus for comfort. “I brought them—just forgot to ask you to put them on. They're in my pants pocket.” He doesn't bother asking, because if Rick did it once before he and Negan had even exchanged names, he's surely not going to mind helping a guy out, now.

And Negan supposes he hit the nail on the head, because he can hear the padding of Rick's feet on the carpet as he disappears out into his room. He hears the rustling of fabric, and then more footsteps, before Rick stops at the sink in the bathroom and Negan can hear him opening up the package to the aforementioned seasickness patch.

“Can you stand up?” He suggests.

“I'm capable of it, if that's what you're asking.” Negan answers. “But you really fucking don't want me to right now, unless you want to see me throw up again.”

Rick laughs—actually fucking laughs—before he drops to his knees and scoots in close, next to Negan and the toilet. He uses his free hand to tip Negan's head sideways and peels off the other patch. “You don't handle bein' sick very well, do you?”

“What the fuck's that supposed to mean?” Negan's more curious than offended, though.

“You're just so dramatic.” Negan looks over as Rick speaks, just in time to see the corners of his lips quivering with a smile he can't hold back. “You almost act like Judith when she's sick.”

“Your daughter?”

“Yeah.” Rick reaches up, somehow wetting a wash cloth without standing up to look at the sink while he does so, and then he uses it to wipe away the residue from the last patch. “She'll cry for hours before she finally pukes.”

“Do you miss them?” Negan did spend a few seconds on a retort, but he actually settles on a real question instead. “Your kids?”

“Yeah.” Rick answers, and after he applies the patch, he sits back on his ass and turns his attention to Negan's face. Negan likes the way he watches him. “But it's not gonna be long before I'm home and get to see them again.”

Yeah, it isn't. This is day four—an early-as-fuck day four, but one nonetheless—and that means that in roughly thirty-six hours, they'll be getting off this ship and on their merry way home. Negan and Simon have rented hotel rooms to stay tomorrow night in Galveston before they head home, but Rick's probably itching to get back to his kids. He wouldn't be surprised if the guy flies the fuck out not long after hitting dry land again.

“That's true.” Negan grins despite himself. “Won't have to worry about this shit,” he points to the toilet, “for much longer.”

There's a silence after that, and he can tell that Rick's fumbling around with what to say next. Probably the same thing Negan's thinking about, which is the simple fact that it's gonna suck that they're not going to be able to see one another after tomorrow. Negan's torn between feeling some relief that the feeling is mutual and silently berating himself for being so damned childish. This was never supposed to mean anything.

“C'mon.” Rick says, and Negan's actually grateful to be pulled out of his thoughts. He watches the other man stand up and offer him a hand, and quickly takes it. Once he's at his feet, Rick nods to the sink. “Wash your mouth out.”

“Yes, Momma.” Negan rolls his eyes, but obeys regardless. He'd been planning on it anyway.

It's nice that Rick knows he doesn't feel well though, and is trying to be helpful. He feels a hand on the small of his back, which he assumes is for the sake of balance, in case Negan gets dizzy and loses his footing or some shit like that. It reminds him yet again that Rick's probably used to being the caretaker, especially after his wife died.

Either way, once he's done, he and Rick amble back to the bed and curl up together once more. Rick's on his side, in almost the exact same position as before Negan woke him up, so Negan turns onto his own side to face him. He sighs.

“You weren't fucking supposed to wake up.” He says, because the whole thing is still pretty goddamned embarrassing. “Figured I'd deal with it somehow, get my ass back to bed, wake up good as new, and you wouldn't know the damn difference.”

Rick shrugs. “Guess part of this cruise is me dealin' with your motion sickness, then.” He doesn't look the least bit bothered. “At least you can't bitch at me for runnin' into you this time.”

“Which you totally did, by the way.” Negan smirks. “Should've been watching where the fuck you were going.”

“Sounds like the pot's callin' the kettle black, Negan.” Rick says simply. “No big deal, though. I mean, if it hadn't happened, we probably wouldn't be right here, together.”

Negan's stomach does this stupid goddamn backflip that makes him want to scream and throw things, because he should _not_ be getting butterflies over a guy he's known for just shy of four days. But then Rick goes and says shit like that, and how can he _not_ feel all goddamn giddy about it?

What a mess...

“You're a big fucking sap, Rick.” Negan teases, though he scoots in close and curls an arm around Rick's waist. “But I will agree that this whole thing would've been boring as shit without you and your pretty blue eyes and weird friends to keep me entertained every day.”

“It's gonna feel weird not hearin' comments about dicks all the time.” Rick thinks aloud, and when Negan notices the almost solemn look on his face, he outright laughs.

“You can cut that shit out right now, Rick Grimes.” He all-but scolds. “This ain't goodbye. We clearly have a whole day left. Don't get all lachrymose on me just yet, alright?”

Rich laughs, but Negan sees compliance in his expression, before he too closes the distance between them, scooting in close to bury his face in Negan's neck. “Whatever you say, Negan. But let's get some more sleep. I want to go into Cozumel when we wake up.”

Negan feels Rick's eyelashes against the skin of his throat as his eyelids fall shut.

\- - - - -

Cozumel is mesmerizing from the start. The minute Negan and Rick get off the ship and onto the concrete deck leading into the tourist area, they are surrounded by blue. He and Rick both find themselves at the edge of the pier, gawking over the concrete and down through clear, brilliant blue water. Negan doesn't think the advertisements on television or in cheesy vacation pamphlets even do it justice. The Caribbean side of the ocean is fucking gorgeous, and he doesn't even know how to describe it.

Apparently, though, Rick's got that covered. His gaze is trained on the water, just looking around in it, as if searching for any sign that it isn't real. “...It looks like blue jello...”

Rick seems like a pretty stoic guy. He doesn't often wear his emotions right on his sleeve, which Negan's kind of taken as him being used to doing it that way as a part of his job. Ever since he revealed that he's a sheriff, it isn't hard to picture that relaxed expression going into all kinds of interesting situations. If Negan's being honest, he probably couldn't do the whole cop thing. Too many assholes would set him off and then they'd both end up behind bars.

But the point is, Negan hasn't seen Rick be surprised by too much since they met. Even seeing Negan vomit in front of him, he'd just watched and waited calmly for the next step. At the water and light show, his attention had been focused on Negan, and at the dinner, he had been amused, but not terribly shocked. All of his more emotional reactions to things have been so subtle that if not for the fact that Negan's been quite obsessed with watching Rick's face half the time, he probably wouldn't have witnessed much, if any, of it.

So seeing him like this, gaping and ooh-ing and ahh-ing (and taking pictures with his phone, now) over some goddamn blue jello water, Negan's caught off guard. His throat does this weird clenchy shit, before he just tucks his hands into his pockets and _smiles_ , because wasn't he just calling Negan dramatic earlier this morning?

He can't bring himself to say anything though, because Rick is just...so into the whole thing. He's commenting about how Judith is going to squeal at how blue the water is, and how he almost wishes he'd brought her and Carl along even just to see this part. He's leaning so far over the pier that Negan actually finds himself suspecting the guy might fall in. Without thinking, Negan approaches and grabs a fistful of the back of Rick's gray button-up.

When Rick whips around to shoot Negan a wide-eyed stare, he just laughs. “You were making me jealous getting all goo-goo-eyed with the water. Besides,” he nods down the path where everyone else is headed, “looks to me like there's more to Cozumel than a fucking pier.”

Cozumel, at least from what the tourists are allowed to see of it, looks totally different than Progreso. Rather than walking down one long street to a beach, the entirety of the area is on the beach itself, with a few blocks of shops and restaurants peppered along it. The buildings are all made out to look like huts, with rooftops covered with a straw-like material and wide open doorways. There's a massive fountain shaped like something that reminds Negan of the little bit about Maya he learned decades ago in high school, with water coursing down all sides of an almost pyramid-shaped structure with a little sidewalk along it, which people can climb atop.

Not unlike with Progreso, Negan and Rick spend the first portion of their time in Cozumel at the shops. The two of them separate to look around the different things the shop has to offer, and eventually find themselves at opposite ends of the shop. Negan spends a little more money than he expects, and it surprises him a bit when Rick finishes shopping before him. He realizes he should probably get to the checkout when Rick approaches him with a pair of dark sunglasses on him.

What a disappointment, because why in the _fuck_ would a guy hide eyes that goddamn blue? Nevermind the fact that Rick probably just doesn't want the sun in his eyes, but still. Either way, he must be wearing his disappointment on his face, because Rick speaks up the minute he approaches him, and tugs the glasses off.

“I bought them for you.” He says simply, before he leans in and slides them onto Negan's face. Everyting instantly grows several shades darker, but the blue never leaves Rick's eyes. Jesus...

“Uh...thanks.”

“You don't like them?” Rick doesn't look upset. In fact, he patiently awaits Negan's answer like he's quizzing him in Algebra or something. Except Negan's actually damned good at Algebra. This, however...

They're not bad glasses, though. Rick's picked out something simple, and when Negan turns to look himself in the mirror next to a rack of T-shirts, he's actually pretty impressed. He wonders to himself how much of his face Rick has been looking at to pick out something that frames it so well. Thinking about it makes him grin a little.

“I do, actually.” Negan says. “You get brownie points for avoiding the ones with fuckin' iguanas on them. Cute animals, but gaudy decorations.” He can almost picture the white people portrayed in movies coming from vacations all sunburned, with like ten gigantic bags of souvenirs, sporting sunglasses with plaster iguanas glued onto them. “...Thanks, Rick.”

He wonders if maybe he should pick something up for Simon. In the end, he settles on a shot glass with 'Cozumel' printed on it in big, rainbow-colored letters.

He exits the shop with one bag in hand and Rick carrying another next to him. They decide to take a look at the beach. The water is just as perfectly blue as it is out at the pier, and there's a small deck leading out to a little speedboat that tourists are alternating taking rides on. The sandy beach has wooden lounge chairs spread out all along it, and people with drinks occupy the chairs. It's much busier than Progreso, and the two men find that locating a place with a little privacy is an endeavor at best.

So they just walk along the sand and look around. Rick points out the speedboat in the distance just as someone's hat flies off, and Negan makes a joke about how the poor guy hopefully didn't just buy it at the shop. They enjoy the ocean breeze and Rick steals the sunglasses he bought for Negan back when they're walking toward the sun.

They stop for a drink at a little stand, and then continue walking. Even Negan is surprised by the sheer amount of alcohol he's ingested since the start of this cruise. At the very least, he knows the patch is working and it isn't going to come back up on him or anything. He has Rick to thank for that, he guesses.

He slides an arm around Rick's shoulders, and this time, there's no hesitation as the man curls his own arm around Negan's waist.

\- - - - -

They don't have to depart Cozumel until around four, but Negan and Rick find themselves back on the boat before noon even hits. The massive structure is much less busy with so many of its occupants out, enjoying the bright blue water and everything else Cozumel has to offer. Navigating the hallways and elevators is so much easier, and Negan and Rick decide that with it less crowded, now might be a good time to enjoy themselves on Lido deck.

Once they've got plates stacked high with items from the buffet, they find themselves out on the same loungers where Negan and Simon ran into one another yesterday. They're almost directly in front of the pool, which is completely uninhabited right now. In the distance, the DJ has some casual music playing. Nothing crazy, as the place isn't really hopping at the moment. Maybe this is what's called 'easy listening'.

Negan is the first to speak up. “...So why'd your buddies send you out here again?” He remembers their first day here, with himself and Rick watching Glenn's premiere in the comedy club lounge, when Rick had told him that Glenn and his wife had dragged him onto this ship because he'd apparently needed a vacation. “Just parenting getting a little overwhelming or some shit?”

Rick shrugs, then swallows a bite of rice. “Guess that's probably a part of it. But they always find somethin' to do for me around this time of year.”

“...Birthday or something?” Negan raises an eyebrow. “I swear to fucking god, Rick, if you didn't tell me it's your birthday and I haven't done something for you, I'm going to reach over there and bruise one of your perfect eyes.”

Rick shakes his head, smiling. “Not mine. Judith's. She turned five a couple weeks ago.”

Negan's a little confused at first, but when he remembers his conversation with a drunken Rick Grimes in that elevator on their first night, his stomach sinks a bit.

“ _She died givin' birth to my daughter.”_

It occurs to Negan that his and Rick's situations aren't very different, and he suddenly finds himself almost overwhelmingly curious about who this woman was, because if Rick loved her half as much as Negan loved Lucille, he knows just how miserable that once a year can be. How the guy manages to get through it and celebrate his daughter's birthday party at the same time is downright incredible.

“What was your wife like?” Negan dares to ask, though he finds himself almost disclaiming that Rick doesn't have to talk about it if it's too hard. Hell, he'd be a hypocrite to expect him to say anything against his will, considering this man doesn't even know about Lucille.

But then Rick does something Negan's not expecting in the slightest—he _smiles_. It's almost like he isn't about to talk about his dead wife—as if digging up the memories Negan is asking him to dig up isn't painful. He's just...grinning softly, sitting sideways on his lounge chair, with his plate sat aside at the foot of it. He rests his elbows on his knees and looks ahead somewhere, and Negan can almost feel him slipping into the past.

“Her name was Lori. She was beautiful, inside and out. Real stern woman, but that's because she loved with her whole heart, and she loved passionately.” He laughs to himself and shakes his head. “She was so good to Carl, and she would've been the same to Judith. She had a smile on her...the kind that made you feel like everything was gonna be okay. I came home from a real bad domestic case one night. The wife was in the ICU and her face was almost completely disfigured.”

Okay, he isn't smiling anymore. Now, he's got his gaze focused down at the ground, and Negan's stupidly following it like he might see something in it. “I saw her face when I got home, and just had to give her the biggest hug. She pulled me back, asked me what happened, and when I told her—got all teary-eyed doin' it—she just laughed. Laughed and touched my face and told me that I'm too soft to do somethin' like that to her. She _always_ had faith in me, and never for a second let me forget it. That's the kind of woman my wife was.”

And then he's smiling again. “She was strong, and she always kept me grounded. I mean now, I got Maggie and Glenn to help me with that, and I know if I got too lost, she'd make sure to fix it somehow, even now.”

Rick's had five years to dwell on this, Negan acknowledges. He's obviously done a lot of thinking, and even though he smiled most of the time during his story, it's still obvious just how painful the whole thing is. Negan wonders about Judith. Does she know her mother died on her birthday? How does a father even address that? Fuck, how does a daughter _take_ that?

He remembers all the pictures of her smiling, clutching onto that doll, and he finds it hard to believe she knows even a tiny bit about the day her mother died. Hell, she doesn't even _know_ her mother.

Jesus, that's heavy.

When Negan looks back up, Rick's got his food back in his lap and is munching away as if the two of them hadn't been discussing his dead wife just now. It's like night and day, and Negan honestly wonders how Rick does it. Ever since Negan heard Rick call his daughter's doll by the name of his late wife, he's been low-key dwelling on it. In the silences, he thinks about how much he misses her, and about how she would react to him today, and about what she might say about Rick. It's hard to keep a smile on, and even though Negan can tell Rick still loves his wife something unmerciful, he's still so...okay with her being gone. How does someone go about _doing_ that?

He remembers Simon's suggestion for him to talk to Rick about Lucille, but...shit...how does he even _start_? What the fuck does it matter to this guy? Is it even going to help him any?

At the same time, Negan wants to know how in the hell Rick is so...okay. So he braces himself, opens his mouth, and speaks up.

“I had a wife, too.”

Rick looks up from his food, clearly surprised, and Negan scoffs. “Don't look at me like that, asshole, even a shitty-ass excuse for a fucking person like me can get married.”

“No,” Rick swallows his food and then clears his throat, “It's just...you never told me. I had no idea.”

“I wasn't planning on it, either.” Negan admits. “But you told me about yours, so I should probably return the favor, huh?”

“I guess?” Rick sets his plate aside again, suddenly very interested. “What happened with you guys?”

“She died.” Negan stands, tosses his plate in the trash, and moves to sit back down.

“Can I ask how?” Rick asks shyly.

“Brain cancer.” Negan answers simply, and then he releases a sigh. “Actually, what brought it up was your daughter.” He sees the way Rick's brow furrows, but continues. “The doll she's holding in all those pictures...Lucille was my wife's name.”

“...Oh.” Negan literally watches Rick's stomach drop, and sees the color drain out of his face. He can tell the man's feeling guilty for unknowingly bringing something from Negan's past back up to the surface. “I'm sorry, Negan. I didn't—“

“I know you didn't, Rick.” He swallows. “Please don't look at me like you broke my fucking heart or something, because you didn't. It's just...I gotta get this out.” He's already too far gone now, anyway. Going back's pointless.

“Lucille kept my ass in line. I've been teaching phys-ed since long before she died, and she kept me from getting my stupid dumbass self fired I don't know how many times.” It's true, too. Lucille had been a reality check for Negan. She'd had her own little wild streak that made Negan want her more than he'd ever imagined wanting someone, but she'd also somehow known how to reel it all in. She was a filter for Negan. A savior. She slowed him down, and kept him on his feet all at the same time. He misses her so much.

“We were married for a long-ass time before she got diagnosed. Damn near fifteen years.” Negan remembers falling hard and fast for her. She'd swept him in with her wild side and kept him there with her mature side. He'd gotten sucked in and he'd never wanted to leave. “The cancer was aggressive. They gave her six months, and she went eight.”

He thinks that maybe one day, he'll talk to someone about Lucille in a more in-depth way, but this is enough. Negan doesn't talk about this shit to anyone—hardly even Simon—and he can feel his stomach clenching just thinking about everything. He hates picturing her lying in that bed, her stomach doing more of the breathing than her chest, or the ashen color of her skin, or the gray underneath her eyes. Never wants to see it again if he can help it.

Which brings him to his point. “I just gotta know, Rick.”

Rick perks up, and Negan can tell he's still trying to process that he'd even been married.

“How do you _do it_?”

“Do what?”

Negan scratches the back of his neck and looks away. “You smiled while talking about your wife.”

“Yeah.” Rick shrugs. “Because I love her.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” Negan rolls his eyes. “What I'm saying is, what the fuck do you do with all the _bad_ feelings?” God, he doesn't even feel like himself, talking like that. But he can't help himself—Rick's got him impressed. Either he's overestimated this guy's feelings for his late wife, or Rick's just...so incredibly strong. Not unlike Lucille. “I think about Lucille, and I just get _pissed_ that she's gone. How do you smile about that?”

Rick spends an uncomfortably long time thinking about Negan's question. He raises a hand, thumbing his beard thoughtfully, before he pushes himself to his feet. He offers out a hand for the second time today, and Negan takes it. Gently, Rick ushers him in front of him and pushes him forward, toward the pool.

“What the fuck, Rick?” Negan turns around just as Rick's got him at the very edge of the water. Confused, he casts a glance over his shoulder toward the water, but then returns all his attention to Rick. By now, the smaller man's just calmly looking him up and down, assessing him patiently. Negan feels those eyes raking up and down his form, though, and it makes him uncomfortable. He has no idea what to expect right now.

“It took me a long time to be okay with Lori's death.” Rick answers honestly, and Negan can't help but notice how low his voice is. “I'm still not, if we're bein' honest. Spent a lot of time in my own personal hell. Didn't know how to look at Judith for a while. It was Carl who got through to me.” Somehow, Negan knows Carl is Rick's son. “Said I was gonna screw everyone over if I kept actin' like this. And then I realized it was easier to remember all the good things about her instead of the bad things that happened when she died. My own _kid_ was doin' it, so why couldn't I? _”_

Their eyes meet, and Negan's body goes rigid. Rick's gaze is so fierce and blue, and Negan suddenly has the cliché fucking thought that the ocean looks like Rick's eyes, not some stupid goddamned blue jello.

“Smile at all the good memories you and your wife had. Cry because you miss her. Watchin' her die slowly of cancer had to be so hard, Negan, but you're holdin' yourself and everyone around you back by livin' in the bad memories. Love Lucille for who she was when she was alive—don't hate the world for her bein' dead.”

And then Rick's hands are on Negan's chest, shoving him backward, and Negan's too caught off guard to even try and fight it. He just lets his arms fly out to his sides and collapses back into the water.

The pool swallows him whole, and he somehow knows exactly how to do as Rick says. It comes in the form of a long exhale, which helps him sink further down into the water. It's literally the stupidest thing—something that would come straight out of a movie written after a drama novel or some shit—but it works. Negan sees the bad things, but he feels them rising up and away from him in the bubbles of his exhale. They're replaced with good memories. He sees Lucille's raunchy smirk when she would tell him to come to bed with her, and he sees her hair all pulled back during their wedding. He smells her perfume, and sees her pale skin, her wavy hair, her full lips...

Another splash nearby catches Negan off guard, but when he feels fingers closing around his forearm, he figures either Rick decided to join him, or a lifeguard caught sight of the whole exchange.

He wasn't exactly planning on dying, and he was going to resurface soon enough, but he appreciates the air that fills his lungs when he breaks the surface once more. He gulps the sustenance in, and then wipes water out of his eyes.

Rick's the one who came to the rescue, which Negan notices when he opens his eyes to see the other man treading water next to him. They float over to the ledge, and Negan laughs.

“I didn't know baptism was a goddamn form of therapy, Rick.” Negan teases, and Rick shrugs. “But fuck if I don't feel better. You were just trying to lighten the mood, weren't you?”

“Somethin' like that.” Rick closes his eyes and folds his arms over the ledge, resting his head on it. “I was also kind of startin' to feel like the heat was getting to your head, so I decided we needed to cool off.”

“You could've just said that, you know.” Negan says, rolling his eyes.

Rick looks at him, grinning in a way that makes Negan downright dizzy. “What can I say? Guess I'm just full of surprises.”

And that's what does it. Somewhere between Rick's deep, oceanic blue stare and the conversation and just the humor of the situation, Negan realizes he can't take it anymore. He pushes along his side of the ledge and scoots close to Rick. The proximity is suffocating and intoxicating all at once, and before Negan knows what he's doing, he's got Rick's face in one of his hands and his lips on Rick's.

He loves the way the other man just melts into the contact, too. Rick uses one hand to grip the ledge and the other goes up to rest on the hand on his face. Negan feels the sharpness of Rick's icy gaze disappearing under his eyelids as they fall shut, and god, why did he take so long to do this?

Negan knows it's cheesy as fuck, but it's like the pool, the deck, the entire goddamned _world_ disappears around him as Rick pulls himself closer and his mouth falls open. He feels Rick inhale sharply when he slides his hand down and curls it around the other man's waist, and then he smiles into the kiss, pulling back.

Rick looks just as mystified as Negan feels. Those eyes look drunk again, and his lips are pink from the exchange. He tips his head to the side, looking thoughtful, and drags the palm of his hand down along Negan's shoulder and chest.

It's so stupid that this moment is as perfect as it is. Even now, Negan's berating himself for the way his stomach feels so giddy and his heart is racing—how he can practically feel his pulse in his temples when he sees just how dumbfoundedly happy Rick looks about the situation. His skin is prickling just at the sensation of Rick's fingertips over his clothed chest.

Speaking of clothes...

“We have to change now, no thanks to you.” Negan says amidst another stolen kiss, which he feels Rick lean up into. “Guess we should probably go do that.”

Luckily for them, the ship is still much less busy than usual, and they're allowed their corny moments of indulgence along the way to their rooms. In the elevator, Negan pins Rick up against the wall and kisses him with an intensity he hasn't felt in so long, and when the automated voice announces they made it to their floor, he pulls back and jokes about how that's the way he first saw Glenn and Maggie. Rick shoves him further into the hallway.

They kiss once more, against Negan's door. Rick's got him shoved up against it, and Negan finds himself reaching back for the handle to brace himself, while the other hand's bunched shamelessly up in the back of Rick's shirt to pull him against his body. They're both breathless when Rick finally pulls back, and Negan's vision is cloudy.

“Just fucking come inside...” He demands, though in his current state, it comes off more as a plea than anything. “Not like those clothes are gonna stay on long, anyway.”

Rick looks up at him only for a brief moment, before he has him up against the door again and his mouth is on his like it had never left. He kisses with a neediness that Negan realizes matches his own—something that he realizes means the world to him. He hasn't just been pining after some guy who might only be half as interested. Rick's just as interested in him as he is Rick, and while it sucks that they're going to separate after tomorrow, there's some relief in the fact alone that Negan's not alone in his attraction.

He shivers when he feels Rick's fingers slide into his back pocket, and chuckles against the other man's lips when he uses that grip to pull his body against him. It's disappointing when that hand removes itself, but Negan knows that it's because he's pulled out his key card and is presently working on unlocking the door.

Dude's got skills, too. He somehow manages to do so without breaking their heated liplock, and Negan returns the favor by stumbling backward into the room without letting go of Rick. He hears the door shut, but doesn't see it do so as he pulls Rick back with him. He likes that Rick's pushing with equal fervor.

Their clothes are soaked, and in the air-conditioning of the room, it's freezing, but that doesn't stop Negan from reaching around to Rick's front and tugging his button-up out of his pants so that he can work it open. By the time the smaller man has shoved him back onto the bed, he's got it open all the way and is shoving it off his shoulders amidst a hungry kiss.

And then Rick is laughing. He's laughing and resting his head on Negan's chest, his hands cupping either side of the larger man's face. Negan finds himself snickering right along as he stares up at the ceiling, his fingers wet from Rick's shirt and trailing little lines up and down his back.

“We're really doin' this.” Rick comments, voice muffled against Negan's own wet shirt. “God, you smell good.”

“Do I?” Negan laughs, because he probably smells just like salty cruise ship pool water and cafeteria food, but apparently, Rick thinks differently. Or maybe he's into that. Either way, he cups Rick's face in his hands and tips it back up so that he can look into those blue eyes he can't seem to get enough of. He kisses him again, and feels the way Rick all-but collapses against him as he does so.

Even Negan can't bring himself to know what to say right now. He's too caught up in how the skin at the corner of Rick's lips is a little salty from the pool water, and how his wet, curly hair tickles Negan's forehead as their bodies move together. He feels Rick fumbling with his shirt, pulling it up and breaking the kiss only for the sake of taking it off. Soon enough, his lips are back on Negan's, and the larger man can feel Rick's tongue trailing along the seam of his lips for entry.

And then they're just a mess of tangling tongues and limbs and wet bodies dancing in unison against one another. Their chests are cold against each other, nipples hard from the wetness and the cool air surrounding them. Negan slides an arm around Rick's waist and pulls him down on him, rocking his hips up into his partner's.

He likes the way Rick's breath catches in his throat at that contact, and how the smaller man moves to bury his face in Negan's neck as they move together. He and Negan both seem momentarily lost in the delicious friction the little gyrations create, and as Negan's fingers glide up along Rick's sides, he finds he's panting shamelessly, his head tilted to the side to allow Rick's lips to assault the skin on his neck.

Somewhere among all of this, Negan has managed to get his hands between their waists to work open Rick's belt and slide it out of the loops. It's a bit of a challenge, because wet jeans apparently hold tightly to the soaked, ruined leather of the belt, but he gets it down, and he's soon pushing Rick's pants and underwear down, while his teeth nibble experimentally on the flesh of Rick's shoulder. He isn't sure if the moan from the other man comes from his pants being taken off or the little love-bite, but he likes it either way.

He takes then to turn them over, enjoying the shocked gasp that comes from Rick when it happens. In a matter of seconds, he's sitting atop Rick's naked body, straddling his waist. He whistles aloud, dragging his fingers along his partner's chest.

“Goddamn, Rick Grimes...” Negan's voice is dripping with praise, and even he can feel the weight of his words falling from his lips like hot candle wax. “Remind me why in the fuck you're single again. There's no way in hell...”

He's part-amused, part-aroused when Rick's hands shoot out to pop open the button and fly to Negan's pants, but it only gets better when he opens his mouth to speak and yanks Negan down for a kiss. “M'not tonight.”

“Rick...Fuck...” That's got to be the hottest and at the same time the most sentimental thing Negan's heard in a long-ass time. He feels his cock twitch hungrily as the words sink in. Rick's probably an emotional guy when it comes to stuff like this. He's probably a lover before he's a fucker, and it blows Negan's mind that he's somehow managing to incorporate both in just a few words. And now, his hands are buried in Negan's hair and he's not letting him go, and who would Negan be to turn away from that shit?

He pushes his own pants off, and then shoves Rick's body up higher onto the bed, until he's got the other man's head on the pillow. It gives him better access to fumble for the lube he's had stored in the drawer of the nearby bedside table, which he pulls out and casts aside on the sheets. He shudders when Rick laughs into the kiss.

“I have to ask,” Rick starts, breaking the kiss to look at the discarded bottle, “when'd you get that?”

“Did you know the gift shop in the atrium sells everything from magazines to this shit?” Negan says amidst a laugh of his own, as his fingers trail along both of Rick's arms, enjoying the tones and curves of his muscles and veins beneath his fingertips. “Bought it before the formal dinner—a just-in-fucking-case kinda thing. I'm sure you understand.”

“Guess I do.” Rick smiles—genuinely smiles—and looks Negan right in the eyes.

At some point, Negan has intertwined the fingers on both their hands, and now, he's using the grip to prop himself up over Rick's body. Any sensation of cold has long abandoned their bodies, and before he knows what he's doing, he's overcome once more by the urge to kiss those lips. He bears his full weight down on Rick's body, hips and chest and hell, even his _mouth_ rocking against the smaller man's. His grip on Rick's fingers is tight, and his voice a husky pant against the skin of Rick's lips.

Yeah, he's wanted to fuck Rick basically ever since that first night. After all, isn't that what he and Simon had planned on from the get-go? Parties and drinks and all the sex they could get their hands on? What Negan hadn't been prepared for was to spend all his time with one person who wasn't his best friend, and to end up obsessed with damn near everything about him. He knows this little crush has gotten out of hand, but it's not like he can do anything about it now.

Besides, he's sure Rick would reach up and sock the shit out of him if he tried to back off now. Which he doesn't want to, so he's not going to.

“You gonna use it or what?” Rick breaks the silence, and Negan feels those fingers loosen from his own, before he grabs the tube and holds it in front of Negan's face. There's an impish grin that would be so much more convincing if Rick's eyes hadn't been so goddamned hazy with lust right now, but Negan takes the bottle regardless.

“Like I hadn't been fucking thinking about it.” Negan teases, before he sits back and opens the cap. “I just got it out of the drawer so you could think about it while we most certainly do _not_ fuck like jackrabbits.”

“Shut up, Negan.” Rick gives the bottle a squeeze, and Negan makes what is very possibly the most comical display of trying to catch the contents in his free hand, before he glares down at the man beneath him. Rick's outright _giggling_ now, and Negan almost wants to shove what he caught right into the guy's mouth.

Instead, he begrudgingly coats his fingers with the lube and once more sets the bottle aside. He watches Rick's mouth fall open when he pushes one inside, and the little furrow of his brow as he goes all the way. Honestly, he's never been on the receiving end before, so he's got no clue how it feels. Rick, however, doesn't seem to mind. Negan can tell he's never done it either, but as the other man adjusts, Negan sees his expression relax.

He adds a second finger and curls them both, pressing a kiss to Rick's neck. “You alright?”

“Mm-hmm.” Rick nods, and Negan likes the way he rolls his body down further onto his fingers. “Feels nice.”

“Good.” Negan licks his lips. “Because not gonna lie, Rick, you look so goddamn fuckable right now, it'd be a damn shame to stop now.” He finds that spot inside the smaller man's body and watches with a mixture of hunger and delight as Rick's back arches off the mattress. His face almost instantly flushes, and a choked noise somewhere between a moan and a yelp falls from his lips. Negan can see how hard he is, pre-come dripping from the tip of his cock and forming a small pool on his stomach. It's no surprise he can't resist giving his partner a few little strokes.

He likes the way it has Rick losing control beneath him, unsure of whether to roll his hips down onto Negan's fingers or up into his hand. Makes Negan just as goddamn hard as Rick is right now, and it's no surprise when he opens his mouth to speak at this point.

“That's right, baby...” He praises. “Just imagine how good it's gonna feel when I've got my dick in you. I can fuck you so much deeper that way.” He rocks his body forward, brushing his cock along Rick's thigh. “Do you want that?”

Rick opens his eyes, and Negan suddenly remembers a thought he had on their second night. Something about wondering what those eyes looked like during sex, and even though this is only foreplay, Negan finds himself realizing that _fucking goddamned gorgeous_ is the answer. Rick's face is flushed with arousal and pleasure and probably so much else, and all that bright red combined with the hazy sea blue of his eyes looks so delicious that words don't really give it an accurate description.

He also realizes that he could probably get off on that stare alone. Negan's been so entranced by Rick's eyes from the damn start, so it's no surprise there. But he'd very much like to put his dick in the guy before he's done, so he figures he needs to hurry and get to that part.

Rick seems to agree, and Negan sees it in the way he nods quickly, too pleasure-wracked to respond right away.

“No, I need to hear it.” Negan all-but groans, because damn, those eyes. “Tell me what you want, Rick. I promise you, I intend to fucking deliver.”

Rick scowls, but Negan can somehow tell he really isn't all that angry with him. If anything, Negan would be shocked if Rick found these words surprising. Either way, he eventually manages another nod, before clearing his throat. “I want you to fuck me, Negan.” He fucks himself down on Negan's fingers, takes a moment to catch his breath, and looks him in the eyes once more. “Make it good. Don't let me forget it. I want to think about it long after this trip's over. Bet you'd like to picture me touchin' myself thinkin' about you, wouldn't you?”

Oh, hot damn on a fucking sundae. Yes Rick, Negan most certainly _would_ like to picture that. In fact, before they've even gotten to the actual _fucking_ part, he's fantasizing about Rick's fingers buried in his own ass, rolling around in his bedsheets, moaning Negan's name. And uh, yeah, he can fucking make that happen. He's never going to forget Rick, so he might as well make sure Rick never fucking forgets him, too.

“Fuck...” Is all Negan can manage as he withdraws his fingers, fumbles for the lube, and squeezes some more out onto his hand. He coats his cock with it, and the cold is what brings him back to reality. As he hefts Rick's legs up over his shoulders, he stares hazily down at him. Finally, he can speak again. “...One condition, though.”

Rick doesn't say anything. Negan's amazed by the patient way with which he manages to look up at him, as if just waiting for Negan's request.

“Don't stop looking at my face, Blue Eyes.” And then he's pushing inside, using his hand to guide himself in. Once he's deep enough, he props his hands up on either side of Rick's head and grins down at him.

He sees Rick's eyes roll back for the briefest of moments, before the smaller man makes good on the deal Negan not-quite-made with him. His mouth comes open again and he moans aloud, but he doesn't look away. Those blue eyes don't divert from Negan's even for a fucking second, and it's got to be the sexiest thing Negan's seen in a very long time.

He loves every second of it. Loves seeing the way Rick's eyelids flutter down but come back up when Negan fucks him deeply, and he loves the way the other man's back arches off the sheets when he rolls his hips just right. Rick's making all the best sounds, but he never once looks away. He grits his teeth and smirks, and demands for Negan to keep going. Tells him how good it feels, digs his heels into Negan's back.

“You look so fucking good right now.” Negan growls as he raises a hand and runs his fingers through Rick's hair. “God, you look good. Rick, you're goddamn perfect...”

Rick's hand finds Negan's in his hair and grips tightly onto the fingers. His shut for a blink or two, but he's soon back to gazing dreamily up at Negan, tongue wetting his lips. “You too, Negan. You're so good...”

It's no wonder they're already coming apart. Negan's been pining after Rick since day two, and it's obvious he hasn't been alone in this. He and Rick are a slurry of moans of one another's names, the rocking of bodies in unison, and goddamn, Negan is close...so fucking close.

Rick finishes first, and it's then that he caves and his eyes finally squeeze shut. He's bucking shamelessly down onto Negan's cock, and when his orgasm hits, he clenches tightly around Negan, and that's all it takes to pull him over the edge, too.

In Rick's defense, it's really hard to keep your eyes open when you're mid-climax, so Negan figures he's going to let that slide. Frankly, he's too busy being on Cloud Nine to do or say much about it right now, anyway. Instead, he focuses on riding out his orgasm, and then when he's done and realizes he can't reach Rick's lips from here, he pulls out and flops down onto the bed next to him.

They come together like a magnetic force after that. Rick's arm slides around Negan's shoulders and Negan takes hold of Rick's waist, and then they're back to kissing. It's slow and languid and fucking perfect, and combined with the afterglow, Negan's in heaven.

Rick pulls back, and that sentimentality that Negan predicted in him shines through. He's dragging his fingers down along Negan's jaw, lazily playing with his beard, when he smiles. “That took too long.”

“What? The sex? Are you fucking kidding me?” Negan's joking, because he knows exactly what Rick is referring to. It's the fact that they're only just now lying in this bed together, physically spent and basking in sexual afterglow. That only today, they finally managed to make a move and succumb to feelings they both know they're experiencing all-too-quickly.

And Negan can't stop himself from wondering just what kind of guy Rick is outside of the cruise. The good sheriff, with his children and his support system and his suburban life. He stupidly wishes he'd be able to find out, but quickly kicks that thought to the curb.

If he voices it, he figures Rick will come up with another speech for him, just this time with less pool water involved. Probably something along the lines of 'focus on now, because the future's still a day away' or some other inspirational shit like that.

But making good on it in the present doesn't sound half-bad, either. Negan steals another kiss and chuckles against Rick's lips. “You know what I think we should do?”

“What's that?” Rick's eyes are closed as he kisses back.

“I say we try to fit both our asses into that tiny fucking shower, get cleaned up, and then power-nap like the old motherfuckers we are. Not like any of the time we spend the rest of today's gonna be apart, anyway.”

Negan's right, and he can tell Rick agrees. Either way, the smaller man's the first to scoot off the bed, nodding in agreement. “Sounds like a damn good idea.”

\- - - - -

A short power-nap turns into several hours tangled around one another in Negan's bedsheets. The two men don't awaken until nearly dinner time, and make the impromptu decision to attend the formal dinner tonight. Rick's back in that sexy-ass suit, and Negan's back in his black plus black plus black, because let's face it, he looks damn good in black.

The crowd outside of the restaurant is much larger than last time, and Negan finds himself looking about the area at the different people gathered. He sees everyone—performers and dancers, Glenn and Maggie, Beth and Noah. Faces he doesn't recognize surround them, and as they filter into the restaurant, it's significantly more crowded. But eventually, Negan and Rick find their table, and Rani is back to greeting them, that big smile ever-present on her face.

“You two weren't here last night.” Rani says thoughtfully.

“We went to the comedy club.” Rick answers, smiling back to her. “One of the comics is one of my best friends.”

“Oh, I see! They are both very funny.” Rani giggles, Negan assumes because of a memory of one of the shows she got to attend. “I can let it slide this one time. What'll you be having tonight?”

Negan orders a steak, and Rick orders the salmon thing Negan tried two days ago, and Rani is on her way. Negan finds himself looking about the room. They've got couples and groups all scattered about. Glenn and Maggie have their own table, and they're smiling and laughing as they talk about something Negan can't hear. Not far away, Noah and Beth are sitting with Tara and Rosita. Sasha, the dancer from the first night, is seated with a certain redhead Negan is pretty sure stole Simon's win at the hairy chest contest. Carol's sitting with a bald, dark-skinned man, their hands clasped across the table. And then there's the dance announcer, Aaron, sitting with another man. They've got the biggest goo-goo eyes for one another, and Negan wonders if that's the way he's been looking at Rick all this time. Damn those blue eyes.

But the point is, everyone's got someone, and they're all happy together. Be it couples or groups of friends, or something else entirely, everyone's smiling and laughing and enjoying the last night of their cruise. The atmosphere is nothing short of pleasant, and Negan knows he wouldn't have realized any of that if Rick hadn't come along.

He's apparently the king of sappy thoughts tonight.

Either way, food gets here and Negan and Rick are soon munching away. They stay out of the dance this time, but get some enjoyment out of watching Rani pull two children onto the floor to do the “YMCA” dance. They throw frilly armbands onto most of the guests they manage to get to dance, and Negan sees Rick pull out his phone and snap some pictures from the corner of his vision.

He doesn't expect Rick to turn the camera on him, though, and when the other man does, Negan's half-tempted to dive across the table and snatch the phone out of his hands.

Rick obviously sees this look, because he suddenly grins and raises a single eyebrow. “What? It's not like I'm gonna post it on the internet or somethin'.”

Negan finds that explaining himself is actually difficult as hell. 'You don't want to try and remember me if we're never gonna meet again' doesn't feel right, and neither does 'why would you take a picture of a guy you're gonna have to forget?' It's in this that he realizes he's being cynical as fuck, and maybe, he should be taking a picture of Rick as a keepsake, too.

So he does. “I just wanted to be the first to do that shit.” He covers, as he pulls his own phone out and snaps a picture. Rick smiles for him, seemingly not minding, and then pushes Negan's phone down onto the table.

“We should go to the hot tubs.”

Oh, right. Hadn't Negan made a mental note to do that, anyway? Chances are, Lido deck's going to be really crazy tonight, considering it's the last night on the ship. So they should probably hurry.

“Read my mind, baby.” Negan all-but coos, and he takes Rick's hands and they're running off toward the aforementioned hot tubs like children.

They quickly retire to their staterooms for swim trunks, and then they're back on Lido deck. As expected, most of the deck is heavily occupied by guests determined to finish out their trip with a bang. The party side of the deck is crowded beyond belief, and the pool couldn't possibly fit any more bodies in it, so Negan and Rick retire to the hot tubs they'd been planning on going to, anyway.

The other side of the deck is a lot quieter, and Negan and Rick find some relief in seeing that one of the two hot tubs is completely unoccupied. They climb in just in time for another water and light show. Negan sits on the edge closest to the view of the show, his arms folded across the sides, and he feels Rick's arm go around his waist from next to him.

The show's just as fascinating and beautiful as the last one, but they've changed up the ending. The last song plays, and just as the last stream of colors starts, out come the dancers, who perform on the outsides of the pool. A screen that would normally be playing a movie is zoomed in on them, and Negan finds himself watching the screen more than the actual scenery.

Rick slides up behind him and closes both arms around him, and Negan finds he's growing more and more fond of the way those lips feel on the back of his neck. God, Rick's affectionate.

Not that it's a bad thing.

The crowd is a mess of cheers and excitement all the way until the last song plays and the dancers take their bows. Aaron, holding the mic, thanks everyone and wishes them the best after the cruise, and Negan sees him set the mic aside and go join his boyfriend on the loungers.

Negan and Rick choose to stay for the movie—Spy, the one with Melissa McCarthy in it. It's pretty entertaining, and for a while, Negan's pretty absorbed in it. It's right around the time that Melissa's character ends up imprisoned that Rick catches his attention again. Or rather, Negan steals a glimpse of Rick and sees those blue eyes even in the darkness of the Lido deck. He's absorbed in the movie, and even though Negan knows he probably shouldn't disturb him, he also doesn't care. Rick can watch Spy any other day.

“So hey.” he says, scooting back in close. He likes how easily Rick floats into his lap and straddles him, and how quickly those eyes seek out Negan's own. “Gonna ask you a question, and you don't have to answer, but this shit's been bothering me.”

Rick's expression bears some concern. “What?”

“Your daughter.” Negan thinks aloud. “Does she know about what happened to her mom?”

That's clearly not a question Rick had expected, because he looks momentarily shocked by the sheer weight of it. Here they are, watching a comedy movie, and Negan pops off with something serious like that? No wonder Rick is surprised.

But he eventually comes back to the present and nods. “Sort of. She knows her mom died on the day she was born, but she's still a little young for me to tell her it was while she was havin' her.”

Negan supposes he understands. He's never been a parent, so he's never had to make a call like that. A five-year-old girl blaming herself for her mother's death does sound like some sad-as-fuck shit, though, so Negan thinks Rick's probably making a good call.

“How come?” Rick asks, sitting back comfortably on Negan's lap. “That's a sudden question, Negan.”

“It's been on and off of my mind ever since we talked about it.” Negan admits. “Thing is, Lucille and I wanted kids. Tried for one. She came back negative for years, and then a few years before she got diagnosed, she got pregnant.” He sighs. “She miscarried on the nineteenth week.”

“Oh.” Rick frowns. “I'm so sorry, Negan.”

“No,” Negan waves his hands, “I didn't bring it up to start all this negative shit. It was just a question, alright? Me trying to get to know the guy who's gonna poof in less than a day, y'know?”

Rick sighs, and Negan feels like he isn't satisfied with that answer. “Well, if you say so. I'm a good listener, though.” He leans in and kisses Negan with a gentleness that makes him want to melt right into the hot tub they're resting in. Instead, though, he grabs Rick's waist and kisses him back.

And then they're back in Negan's room, stripped down, bodies all over one another yet again. They don't stop until they're both red-faced and the sheets are a twisted mess atop the mattress, and even then, it's hard to want to call it quits. They've got a lot of time to make up for, after all, and not much time with which to do so.

It's well past midnight when they finally collapse onto the bed together for actual sleep, and as they curl up tightly, a mess of tangled arms and legs, Negan makes a joke about the game Twister. Rick elbows him, and then they call it a night.

Tomorrow's going to be a long day, and Negan's not ready for it. He's stupidly attached to Rick and this goddamned cruise ship, and frankly, wishes he didn't have to go.

When's the last time he'd decided it was okay to affix himself to one person for so much time, after all? The last person Negan had wanted around on a regular basis was Lucille. And now, it's Rick. He sure hopes the guy realizes he isn't leaving his side until debarkation tomorrow, either.

Negan doesn't notice that his grip around Rick's chest tightens a little. He does, however, feel the little kiss Rick presses to his knuckles afterward.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cruise is officially over, and Negan and Rick are about to go their separate ways. But of course, our boys aren't going to let each other go that easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter than usual this time around, but this was probably the most challenging one for me to type. I just...hit a wall with this one for some reason. Either way, I know exactly what I want to happen beyond this, so we're looking at three more chapters. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading so far, guys!

Debarking is literally the most miserable process. By eleven that morning, everyone's supposed to be out of their rooms. They're sorted into groups, going by their stateroom numbers, and someone over the intercom is calling each group out to start their de-boarding process. Since Negan's and Rick's rooms were so close together, they're in the same group. Simon happens to be as well, and so are Carol and the guy she was with the previous night, who Negan has learned is named Morgan.

“Your comedian and his wife didn't get sorted into our group?” Negan questions, and Rick shrugs.

“They considered this trip a second honeymoon—got themselves a suite, so they're on a whole different floor.”

“Those fuckers.” Negan laughs, nudging Rick with his elbow. They're seated at the casino, where there are chairs lined up alongside the very edge of it. Negan wishes the machines were on so they could at least gamble while they wait, but blah blah no gambling unless the ship's out at sea blee blah. So for now, it's just himself, Rick, their group, and the water of Galveston to look out the window to.

It looks dull compared to Cozumel, and Negan shamelessly also thinks Rick's eyes. The air here feels different, and yet too much the same. Negan really doesn't want to get off this ship, but he supposes every vacation's gotta end somewhere. Maybe he'll get lucky and he and Rick will somehow happen to be on the exact same cruise ship all over again.

“Hey.” Rick bumps against Negan with his shoulder and looks up at him. He's got one of those soft, Rick Grimes smiles on his lips as he makes a motion with his right hand. “Gimme your phone. You can use it again, right?”

Oh, right. Negan hadn't been using his phone for more than taking pictures because Simon had warned him he'd come home to a nasty phone bill afterward. He'd turned data, wifi, calls, and everything else he could remember clean off. His phone had basically been a camera during the entire cruise, and he hadn't even used it much for that.

Either way, he tugs it out of his pocket, turns all the functions back on, and passes it to Rick. The smaller man types away on it for a few moments, before he hands it back. Negan then sees him pull out his own phone, do the same with his data and calls, and pass it to Negan. The contacts page is open.

“You really thought we were goin' our separate ways without me gettin' your number?” Rick teases, and Negan feels sick to his stomach in the most pleasant way humanly possible. “You're bad at this, aren't you?”

“Bad at what?” Negan laughs. In his defense, he's been pretty out of touch with a lot of things ever since Lucille's death.

“I dunno.” Rick nudges him to keep typing. “Relationships? People in general?”

“I probably am.” Negan finishes up and hands Rick his phone back. “Fucking terrible, actually.”

“That's flaming horseshit.” Simon's voice cuts through the conversation, and both Negan and Rick find themselves looking at the other man for an explanation. “What? You think you two ended up all googly-eyed over each other over him _not_ being charismatic?”

“Oh, he's charismatic.” Rick says matter-of-factly. “But he's terrible at knowin' when to quit.”

“I can agree with that.” Simon laughs.

“So anyway,” Simon nods to Negan, and then to Rick, “you gonna introduce me, here? I've seen you two all over each other this entire cruise.”

Rick holds out a hand. “Rick Grimes. And you're Simon—the hairy chest guy.”

“That's me.” Simon laughs, shaking the offered hand. “Too bad I didn't win.”

“Too bad you didn't.” Rick smiles.

The three spend the better part of the cruise talking to one another, but Negan eventually decides to break away from the conversation for the sake of visiting one more person. He makes his way over to Carol, taking a seat next to her.

“Hey.” He says, clearing his throat. “You, uh...you want these back?” There are still several motion sickness patches in the little ziploc bag Carol presented them to him in—more than enough for another cruise in its entirety.

Carol laughs and shakes her head. “I think you need them more than I do.” Her expression softens, before she raises a hand and gives his shoulder a squeeze. “Just glad I could help. It'd be a shame if you didn't get to have fun out here.” There's a pause, before she speaks again. “Did you?”

“I did, fuck yeah.” He nods. “Couldn't have done it without your help, so thanks.”

“Of course.” Carol responds. “So, where are you headed back to?”

He and Carol had never really gotten around to actual introductions, had they? Thinking of it that way makes it easier to hold onto the fantasy that Carol's some wandering cruise ship spirit trying to stop people from barfing on her carpet.

“Nebraska.” He answers. “You?”

“Georgia.”

Negan wants to make a joke about how he's seen so much southern hospitality on this ship that he's not surprised all these motherfuckers hail from Georgia, but he doesn't. Instead, he wonders if Rick's ever met this Carol, but decides that's a stupid thought, since there's more than just Rick's hometown to the state. Surely, they'd have run into her more if Rick had known her.

A beep sounds over the intercom, calling out for the group Negan, Rick, and the others are all a part of to start the de-boarding process. It quickly puts an end to his discussion with Carol, and Negan feels a weird mixture of relief and sadness upon having to depart from her. Relief, because this debarkation process is finally beginning, and sadness, because he'd have liked to get to know his resident puke phantom a little better.

Either way, he moves to bid her one last goodbye. Extending a hand, he flashes her one of his charismatic smiles. “Hey, thanks again. It was real fucking good to meet you.”

“Same to you, Negan.” Carol's smile is pretty damned flawless, and Negan swears he sees her husband's complexion flush somewhat when he sees it too. Regardless, she takes Negan's hand, then uses the grip to pull herself to her feet and throw her arms around him in a big hug. “You be safe, alright? Take it easy.”

Negan bear hugs her back, and then pulls away. “You got it. See you around one day.”

“Don't be ridiculous.” Carol laughs, before the two finally separate. In a matter of moments, Negan is back at Rick's and Simon's sides, and they're filtering out of the casino. The debarkation process is the least bit simple as possible. Negan isn't sure why they have to go through so much difficulty just to get off a damn boat. They were checked in thoroughly, so he doesn't quite understand why they have to be just as thorough upon getting out.

Security shit, he supposes. Maybe someone smuggled something illegal over or something. Negan wouldn't be surprised.

Despite that thought, he soon finds himself walking down several flights of stairs until he and the others end up at the bottom floor of the atrium—the same one they'd entered the ship on. They are urged out a door and into a jetway, where they're directed down what feels like fucking _miles_ of walking and turning and walking and turning.

And then there's the ground, and Negan somehow _knows_ it's the ground, because he still has his damn sea legs and solid ground feels like the weirdest shit ever. He doesn't quite remember feeling like this in Progreso or Cozumel, but for some reason, he gets back on American soil, and his legs are in a perpetual state of trying to wobble and bounce along with the phantom movements of what is no longer a cruise ship.

He's standing in line with Rick and Simon while they wait to reach a desk and security scanner, and it seriously feels like the ground is moving. He's thanking his lucky stars he kept his fucking motion sickness patch on, because it apparently also works with lack-of-motion sickness, and Negan doesn't feel like he's going to puke, even though he feels like he _should_ feel like he's going to puke. It's the weirdest thing.

A sudden warmth around Negan's waist tugs him out of his thoughts. Rick has abandoned his bags next to both of them and has come to embrace him from behind, and the sensation that comes afterward has Negan actually finally starting to feel that motion sickness. He loves the contact, and he can practically see those blue eyes even though Rick's behind him. But goddamn it, why does Rick have to be all touchy-feely when they're about to go their separate ways? He's probably not trying to make it harder on Negan, but he's sure managing to, regardless.

“Stop thinkin'.” Just when Negan thinks Rick can't make him any weaker, he goes off and says that shit.

“Who made you the fucking thought police?” Negan teases, and he doesn't bother resisting the urge to lean back into the contact. Rick's a bit smaller than him, but Negan somehow manages to feel completely enveloped in him despite that.

“Well, I am a cop.”

Negan shivers, and he feels Rick's grip on him tighten a bit right afterward. “Guess you are, Rick Grimes.”

“The point is,” Rick continues as if it's nothing, “you don't have time to for thought. We gotta decide what we're gonna do before we have to leave.”

Negan knows he has a vivid imagination. He knows his mind has a terrible tendency to wander off down paths most questionable, and his thoughts often get the better of him. But even for him, it feels like a stretch to wonder if Rick's actually talking about what they're going to do, as the two of them, once they've gone their separate ways. Surely, this guy doesn't think it's worth it to try and pull off some long-distance shit after just five days on a cruise ship together? Or maybe he wants Negan to come to Georgia—meet the kids, see if he wants to stay there.

Rick derails his train of thought before it crashes, though. Negan feels the warmth of the other man's lips on the base of his neck, and he sighs pleasantly at the gentle pull back to reality. “When do you go home?”

Negan clears his throat, almost as if he thinks Rick's somehow heard what's been going on in his mind and he's trying to cover it up. “Simon and I fly out tomorrow morning. Got a hotel not far from the ferry. You?”

Negan feels warmth on his skin as Rick lets out a sigh. It's comforting and unpleasant at the same time—something that rattles its way all the way down into Negan's bones. He's still trying to get his head around just how much Rick affects him.

“My flight leaves at 6:15 this evening.”

Negan's self-control fails him entirely. He turns his head up to the large clock on one of the distant walls. It's just past noon now, so that means that Rick's got to be on a plane in roughly six hours, and he is presently soliciting that he and Negan do something until then.

But what? It isn't like Negan's been to Galveston before this, so he doesn't know much about the place. There's the Pleasure Pier along the beach, but Negan feels like he and Rick have seen enough water through the duration of their relationship, and he's not particularly crazy about rollercoasters and carnival rides. There are plenty of souvenir shops and restaurants too, but aside from that, Negan doesn't know shit.

“What about Glenn, Maggie, and Beth?” Negan realizes aloud as his mind wanders.

“They're gonna be doin' their own thing, too.” Rick says, voice pretty straightforward. “I get to see them all the time, and they know I'll be at the airport in time—got kids to get home to, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Negan agrees. “Fair enough, Rick. Seeing as you seem to be pining for my fucking attention, I'd be an asshole to refuse—“

“Shut up.” Rick scoffs. “You're gonna come with me after we're done here and we're gonna have a good time, because you _know_ you want to.”

Negan rolls his eyes. “Sure can't get a fucking thing past you, Rick.” He looks ahead just in time to see Simon grin at him from over his shoulder.

\- - - - -

Galveston Island isn't huge. If you're in a part of the island that isn't crowded with buildings, you can see the coast on both sides. That said, for its small size, there's a decent amount of things to do crammed within it. A park, a handful of shops, restaurants, movie theater...but none of it seems to really fit the bill when it comes to what Negan and Rick want to do together.

So they find themselves walking. Just...walking. Galveston's got a smaller-town feel to it, and the closer you are to the coast, the more scenic they make the roads and sidewalks. At present, he and Rick are strolling along a brick sidewalk across the street from the beach. They can hear people screaming and playing from their spot, but they don't pay it too much mind.

Negan can't remember how many times he's given himself the internal lecture about how much he's overreacting about this situation, but he's doing it again, and it doesn't feel any less valid. He keeps telling himself how he's known Rick for less than a week, and even though it _feels_ like they've been hanging out together for months, they really haven't. He can practically hear 'Summer Lovin'' playing in the back of his mind, because that's what this is. A passing fling.

And yet, here he is, desperately seeking out more time with Rick, like the guy's a lover going to war or some shit. He knows it's stupid, but like the many times he's told himself before that it was, the weird sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach doesn't go away.

He can't believe he told Rick about Lucille. And yet, when he looks at this guy, he _can_. Rick's just that kind of person, Negan thinks—the one who has a wisdom far beyond his years. He's smart and intuitive, and _tough_. There's a lot to ask of him, and apparently, advice is one of those things for Negan.

“You're doin' it again.” Rick's voice, despite the comment, doesn't sound upset. If anything, he's amused, and when Negan looks up to meet those blue eyes with his own, he sees the man smiling. “What're you thinkin' about?”

“Shit.” Negan laughs and scratches the back of his neck. “I'm not gonna fucking say. It sounds enough like senseless bullshit in my head.”

“I don't care.” Rick says back bluntly. “You keep gettin' lost in your own head, and I'm tryin' to spend time with you, so stop it, or talk about it. One of the two.” There's a facetious little grin on Rick's lips that tells Negan he probably already knows, but he's still not crazy about answering.

“Well, uh, you know.” Negan looks across the street, where he doesn't have to look into those eyes while he talks. “This is just the end of the road. Kinda sucks, since I really enjoy having your scrawny ass around.”

Negan doesn't have to be looking at Rick to know the guy's got an eyebrow raised high up into his forehead. “And that's bullshit to you?”

“...Yeah?” Negan looks back at him. “It'd be different if the cruise had lasted a month or some shit, but we didn't even hit the one-week mark.”

“You know,” Rick laughs, “for a smartass, you're a real idiot sometimes.” Negan feels the warmth of Rick's fingers moving down to clasp his own, and they lace together flawlessly. “I mean, I get it. Seems hard to make somethin' like this work since we have to go home, but that's why I gave you my number. It's not a sentence—we don't have to move in together or be 'boyfriends' or any of that.”

Rick's words are so straightforward that Negan's afraid to look away, for fear that he might miss something. He kind of wants to interrupt, but Rick's not letting him. That blue gaze has his attention completely, and he's stuck until Rick's done talking.

“We're gonna be a thousand miles away. Who knows? We might go home and realize this isn't as big as we made it during the cruise. Maybe we'll text a couple times and be done with it. But I don't feel like that's important right now.” Rick, despite the seriousness in his tone, is still smiling. “Thing is, it's almost one, and I've still gotta make the commute to the airport. That gives us just over four hours, and one week or not, I'm enjoyin' my time with you. So get outta your head and have a good time, Negan.”

Negan can't tell if Rick's been trying to be philosophical or just honest, but he gets it. He's supposed to be worrying about what happens after they separate, well, _after_ , and it isn't like he had any problem pursuing Rick on the cruise ship. No reason he should stop and get all melodramatic now. Which he most certainly fucking is doing.

He stops walking and smirks. “Fuck this beach shit. Let's go somewhere else.”

\- - - - -

Negan isn't sure what Rick thinks they're going to do, but he eventually directs himself and the other man to the hotel he and Simon had booked. They've both come to the consensus that after spending five days doing _everything_ , not doing _anything_ sounds more than wonderful.

The hotel room isn't anything special—just two queen-size mattresses in a big room with a microwave and mini-fridge. The bathroom is small and almost invisible compared to the rest of the room. On the opposite wall, directly between the two beds, is a wall-mounted television.

Negan and Rick drop their bags at the door, and Negan orders them a pizza. By the time their four hours ticks down to three, they've got half a box of pizza remaining and have happened upon a marathon of House MD on the television. The characters are mid-differential when Negan finally pulls Rick down onto the bed with him. Lazily, he curls an arm around the other man's waist.

“No sleep.” Rick says, glancing at Negan out of the corners of his vision. “You can do that after I leave.”

“Who says I was planning on sleeping?” Negan teases. “I can think of something both of us want to do, a good-as-fuck idea of how to spend time together, too...”

Rick laughs. “Of course you can.” Despite the scoff in his voice, Negan feels his body shudder underneath his wandering fingertips as they slide up under Rick's shirt. He's not really doing anything, honestly. He just likes to feel the way Rick's body reacts to the things he does to him.

“You know what?” Negan chuckles against Rick's shoulder. “I don't think I like your attitude, Rick. Wanna tell me what the fuck it is you think I'm talking about?”

He looks up in time to see Rick's eyes roll. “Please, Negan.”

“No, I'm being serious.” Negan says, as his lips wander to Rick's jawline. “Do you think I'm talking sex?”

“Well, what else?” He pulls back so he can look at those blue eyes gazing at him. “Not like I was about to say 'no' or anything...”

“Don't get me wrong.” Negan licks his lips. “I love sex. I'd fuck you ten times over before you got to the airport if I didn't think you needed your legs to get around in the terminal. But I kind of like what I've got going right here...” His wandering fingers slide up along Rick's left side.

“You're gonna have to specify, Negan.” Rick shivers almost violently. “Because right now, sex is what it looks like.”

“I can see why.” Negan drags his hand upward, palm grazing one of his partner's nipples. Negan likes the way Rick's breathing hitches in his throat. “But I think it's more...exploration than anything. Lucille used to do this all the time.”

“What, exactly?” Rick's words are breathy as Negan rolls his nipple between his finger and thumb.

“Fuck if I know.” Negan knows he doesn't make much sense, but he's trying to. “She would just...play. Let her hands and mouth do whatever she felt like. Get me all hot and bothered and aching to fuck her brains out, but there was never any telling if we were gonna get there. Most times, she got me off before we could even get to the intercourse part. Guess she just liked seeing me come apart or something.”

“That's still pretty sexual.” Rick scoffs, arching up into Negan's hand when he moves his hand to tease the other nipple. “Kinda sweet, too. Is that what you're tryin' to do to me?”

“I guess.” Negan doesn't look Rick in the eyes this time. He focuses on kissing along his neck and jaw and earlobe, fingers teasing the other man's chest, because he knows he sounds like a goddamned sap. Last thing he wants is to see the way Rick's taking what he has to say. “Just figured it'd give me something to think about later when you're gone. Rub one out with the memory of how you react to me touching you and all that shit, yeah?”

“Negan—“

“Oh no, you don't.” Negan gently rakes his nails down Rick's front, to his lower belly. His fingers tease the skin there. “You don't get to respond to that, because we're not getting all fucking sentimental, here. You told me to stop that, remember?”

“Yeah, but—“

“No, Rick.” Negan's fingers are surprisingly deft in working open the fly to Rick's pants. “C'mon, just enjoy yourself, why don't you?”

“Negan.” Rick catches Negan's wrist just as his fingers are dipping into his pants. He's a little surprised, but looks up to meet those blue eyes regardless. Rick's face is flushed, and his eyes are half-lidded and he's clearly looking forward to Negan moving this along, so...why's he stopping him?

“What?” Negan asks, confused.

“...Got a better idea.” Rick pulls Negan's fingers up and away from his pants, then tugs until he's got Negan straddling his lap. “Why don't you ride me?”

Negan's brow furrows. He's not exactly opposed to the idea, but he's waiting for Rick to keep speaking.

“You can still do all your touchin' and explorin' without me not being able to walk, and I get to fuck you. We both get what we want.”

“You want to fuck me.” Negan repeats, and he laughs when Rick nods in response. “To be honest, I've never once thought about having a dick in my ass, Rick. But, shit, when you look at me like that, how in the fuck am I supposed to say no?”

He remembers the handful of times he and Rick had rolled around in the sheets just yesterday alone. He thinks of the way Rick's back arched and his eyes nearly lolled back into his skull, and the low moans that had spilled from his lips. Rick sure made it _look_ like it felt good, and shit, Negan's about to not see this guy again, so...why the fuck not?

“You don't.” Rick's response pulls Negan out of his thoughts, and suddenly, he's being tugged down into a kiss. As Negan's lips part against Rick's, he faintly hears the beeping of alarms on the television as a patient in House, MD codes out. He fumbles for the remote and shuts the TV off, before he lets himself slip fully into the moment.

Negan feels Rick's hands on either side of his face, and he all but melts into the warmth of those hands as his tongue finds the other man's. He props himself up on his forearms, but lets the rest of his body lie flush atop Rick's. It's alright for a few moments, but after a bit, Rick breaks off the kiss and chuckles in the close space that divides their lips.

“...You're heavy.” Rick says, and Negan laughs in response.

“Well, excuse the fuck out of me.” He sits back up on Rick's waist, arching his back as he slides the black Deftones shirt he's wearing off his chest and shoulders. “Maybe that'll help a little.” He looks down at the man beneath him, and his stomach twists almost painfully.

Here he goes again, overthinking and dwelling like Rick told him not to. But goddamn, if he isn't going to miss this guy. He stifles the thought in favor of working the buttons to Rick's shirt open and bending down to flick his tongue out against one of Rick's nipples, and it helps that the guy's responding so positively to the gestures. Now that he's sitting on Rick's lap, he can feel the growing erection in the smaller man's pants—one that stirs up some arousal in Negan, himself.

“You're so goddamned beautiful.” Negan curses, pulling away from Rick's nipple to tease at his collarbone with his teeth.

Rick doesn't respond. Negan imagines he's not sure _how_ to. He doesn't mind, though, because Rick's arms are suddenly curling around to grip at his shoulder blades and pull him in for another kiss. It's a slow kiss, and Negan lets Rick take the lead. He likes the slow, gentle movements of Rick's lips against his own, and his chest clenches for some reason when the other man tips his head to deepen it just right. It's in the slow inhales and exhales, and the gentle pressure their mouths make together, and how Rick pulls back, keeping his eyes shut, and his mouth hangs open as he rocks his hips up into Negan's.

Maybe it's not the right time, but as they move, Negan remembers Lucille. He remembers her teasingly slow pace and the gentle workings of her plump lips against his body. He remembers her holding onto him for dear life as their bodies became one, and the breathy moans she let out as they moved together. He feels her in Rick's movements, and drinks them both up in the kiss. He all but melts into the feeling, his face buried in the crook of Rick's neck, body bucking roughly down to meet Rick's.

Negan is like a hailstorm, while Rick is the ocean. He's rough and his thoughts and feelings come out in full force, and Rick just...absorbs them. He swallows them up with no complaint and continues to flow freely despite that. He's exactly the pull Negan needs to his push, and it goddamn sucks that this is it.

He helps Rick the rest of the way out of his shirt. Afterward, he steals a long, languid kiss, before he reluctantly pulls himself off the bed and makes his way to the bags at the door. He hears the bed squeak as Rick props himself up on his elbows to watch him. When he turns back around, lube in hand, the other man nods in realization.

“Guess you haven't exactly unpacked yet, huh?” Rick questions, making conversation.

“Don't plan on it, either.” Negan laughs, opening his pants and sliding them and his boxer briefs off. “Take your pants off, Rick.”

He's already plenty hard, but seeing Rick obey like that, getting completely naked for him, his own raging erection standing proudly at attention...Negan can feel the blood leaving his brain.

He crawls back onto the bed and pops open the cap to the lube. Just as he's about to squeeze it out onto his own hand, Rick catches his wrist all over again. He cocks an eyebrow yet again, turning his head to look at Rick in surprise. “...Uh, Rick.”

“Let me do it.”

Negan isn't sure why he hesitates, but he eventually passes the tube over to the other man anyway. Was Rick this nervous his first time?

Negan is glad there's only one 'first time', because even in his own head, that sounds weird as fuck.

Either way, he moves to get on his hands and knees, taking hold of the headboard when Rick settles behind him. He hears the slick noises of the other man coating his fingers, and then feels one of the digits tease at his entrance. Gently, Rick pushes it inside.

It's odd, but not uncomfortable, and when Negan's body relaxes, he feels Rick push in a second one. He finds he kind of likes the way the digits scissor and curl inside him, even though he can't really control what Rick's doing. He figures lack of control's really the only reason he's not as into taking as he is giving, but as he's learned, Rick's... _really_ persuasive.

Not that it matters, because seconds later, Rick curls his fingers just right and brushes across a spot that makes Negan's knees go weak. He remembers hitting that spot himself the first time he and Rick had had sex, and seeing those blue eyes glaze over almost instantly. He wonders if his eyes are that hazy right now too.

Negan wonders if he's making a lot of noise—he can't really hear his own voice over the ringing in his ears—but Rick's apparently getting a ton of enjoyment out of what he's doing right now, because he just fucking _keeps at it_. Negan wants to tell the man to hurry up and get his dick in there instead of his fingers, but goddamn, it feels good.

About the fifth or sixth wave of intense pleasure, though, Negan finally manages to speak. He glances at Rick over his shoulder and laughs breathily. “You keep doin' that and you're gonna make me come, Rick. Hurry up and lie down so I can fuck myself on you, already.”

He literally _watches_ a moan wrack Rick's body upon hearing him say that. His blue eyes look like they're darkening several shades, and then his mouth falls open to release a groan as he pulls his fingers out. He doesn't need to be told twice.

In a matter of seconds, Rick's back on his back, coating himself with lube, and then just waiting. It doesn't take much for Negan to settle over him, legs spread. He's got Rick's cock in his hand as he looks down at the other man's face, and then he's lowering himself down onto him.

Rick's dick is far bigger than his fingers, and Negan moans in appreciation for that fact once he's got himself fully impaled on the other man's body. He's also grateful as fuck for how Rick had suggested he ride him, because now, he gets to see every twisted look of pleasure on the smaller man's face. Right now, Rick's eyes have fallen shut and he's letting his head rest back on the pillow.

“Feels good, huh?” Negan lilts as he starts moving. It _does_ feel good—there's a pleasant sensation of fullness to it, and Negan can feel everything from the twitching of Rick's cock to the pulsing of his veins.

“Shut up.” Rick growls, and Negan damn near creams himself over the way the other man sharply snaps his hips upward into him from below. He must be really into it by now.

“I'm gonna take that as a yes.” Negan says, one last tease, before he starts up a rhythm. It's almost odd, moving like this, without the gentle sway of the cruise ship to propel them along. It's just Negan moving on top of Rick's body, on solid ground. Maybe it's the mattress, but it still doesn't quite feel like solid ground. He'll wonder later how long it takes to get rid of his sea legs, though. Right now, he's quite enjoying himself.

Rick's doing his best to move beneath Negan's body, and it's in the way his hips move up in time with the downward push of Negan's that he manages to find his prostate yet again. They've gotten so harsh and rhythmic with their movements that Rick's cock strikes that spot _hard_ , and Negan can't contain the curse that escapes him in response.

And then he's snapping down to feel that harsh pressure all over again. Rick had told him he'd be able to do the exploratory shit he'd wanted to do before, but right now, Negan can't imagine how that's possible. He's too busy losing his damn mind, coming so painfully close to the peak of his arousal that he can hardly focus on just how goddamned perfect Rick looks beneath him.

He probably does, too. Rick probably looks like a fucking angel. Negan can faintly feel the other man's hands on his thighs as they move together, and he can almost picture the open-mouthed look of pleasure all over Rick's face.

“Negan...” Rick moans, and Negan groans right along with him at the sound alone. “Negan, look at me.” He's still moving as he speaks, which makes it hard as hell to obey his request, but Negan somehow manages.

His vision is blurry at the corners, but he can definitely still make out the bright blue eyes. Rick's flushed, and he's got the fucking _dumbest_ smile on his face. But it's somehow gorgeous in its own right. _Rick_ is gorgeous in his own right. A damn sight, if there ever was one.

“This is _not_ senseless bullshit.” Negan doesn't have time to process Rick's words, because the other man suddenly finishes, a wet heat filling him up from the inside, and that white heat is all it takes to pull Negan over with him. He comes hard, shooting ropes of his orgasm onto Rick's stomach and chest. His body shudders as he rides out his climax, and he hears Rick moan beneath him as he finishes.

He pulls off of Rick's body and collapses next to him, an arm slung over his chest, face buried in the pillow.

“I didn't mean it like that, Rick.” Negan says, voice muffled. He feels Rick's fingers gently grazing the skin of his arm, playing with the hairs on it.

“I know you didn't.” Rick answers simply, and Negan likes the way his breath brushes along his arm as he speaks. “It's just somethin' that needed to be said. Kind of my way of sayin' I really like you, too.”

Negan hadn't ever outright told Rick he 'really liked' him, but he doesn't argue that anyway. Instead, he just pushes himself up on his elbow and leans in for another kiss. “You're a big goddamn fucking sap, Rick Grimes.”

Rick cups the side of Negan's face. “I don't see you complainin'.”

The two men retire to the shower to clean up. It's far too small for the both of them to fit into, but after trying to shower in the stateroom together, this one feels like a damned spa. It gives them plenty of room for Negan to wrap his arms around Rick from behind, kiss his neck, run his fingers through his hair, and even to take him bent over, hands propped against the wall. They don't step out of the shower until the water runs cold and their bodies are shivering from the chill and knees quivering from exhaustion.

Negan picks out the daytime television screening of Bruce Almighty, and that's how they spend the last couple of hours they have together. Negan's got a lapful of Rick, who is leaning back into his body as he watches, and he's effectively blown away when the smaller man tells him he's never seen this movie. Negan teases him when he gags over the scene where Bruce produces a spoon out of his mouth in the diner, and then they both lose track of what's going on over Negan kissing the back of his neck, wandering fingers sending Rick over the edge for the third time.

By the end of the movie, it's time for Rick to go. Negan walks him to the bus station. Their hands are intertwined as they stop at the station.

Negan feels stupid yet again for how awkward he's behaving. He lets go of Rick's hand and tucks his hands into his pockets. Clears his throat. “So, uh, this is it then.”

“I guess so.” For the first time since this whole endeavor began, Rick looks genuinely sad about that. He shakes his head, though, and Negan sees the thoughts being pushed away in the process. God, this guy is something else. “I gave you my number, though. You ever want to talk...you know what to do.”

He leans in for a kiss, just as the bus pulls up. Negan grabs him around the waist and holds tightly onto him. They break the kiss, and as the bus doors slide open, their foreheads rest together. Negan closes his eyes and sighs.

“Gonna miss you, Blue Eyes.”

“You too, Negan.” Rick kisses him again, brushes his fingers through the hair Negan actually took the time to take care of before they left. “Don't be a stranger.”

Negan scoffs. “You got it, cowboy.”

He helps Rick get his bags onto the bus, and then hops off, watching Rick through the window as the bus leaves. It disappears all too quickly.

_\- - - - -_

Negan dreams of a storm again that night, and it's not unlike the first time. The ship is bouncing and jumping and swaying violently in the torrential downpour. The music is barely audible over the storm, and the passengers are behaving as if nothing is happening.

Just like the first time, Negan ambles his way closer to the passengers and tries to warn them of the dangers of the incoming weather. He sees the pool, with its swishing, turning waters. The other cruisers continue to move freely.

And then the pool water is blue. So very blue. Negan hears a distant voice comment on how it looks like blue jello, and then the ship lurches one more time. It cuts off Negan's footing, and just as he collapses to the ground, he's awake again.

He rouses into the darkness of his hotel room. Instinctively, he rolls over, reaching for the body in the other side of the bed. It's empty, because that's right, Rick is off in the sky, on his way back to Georgia.

Goddamn it. Where's that voice of reason to tell Negan his bitterness over that fact is _not_ childish?

He sees the blue light on the top corner of his phone flickering and reaches for it. There's a text message, from the name 'Blue Eyes', and Negan's stomach does a flip:

_miss you already._

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negan's a thousand miles away from Rick now, and he finds it's a challenge to get him off of his mind. And when it's not Rick, it's Lucille. He's got a lot of sorting out to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter didn't come out anything like I had initially decided. I'm pretty sure I changed the entirety of it, save for the last sentence. However, I am so satisfied with the way it came out. Hope you guys enjoy it as well!

_"What the fuck does that even mean?"_

_Negan doesn't remember ever feeling so distraught in his entire life. He's seated across a desk from a doctor who looks like he's delivered this kind of news a million times before. And yeah, oncologists do that shit, so no surprise there. It's probably easier to him that Negan already knows about the cancer...but this, too? How much is the world going to take from Lucille?_

_Why not Negan, himself?_

_"Sometimes, a brain tumor can affect one's memory. Her symptoms are not unlike dementia. She's going to need you more than ever, now."_

_Negan curses everything in front of him by pure instinct. He curses the stupid fucking doctor and his stupid fucking office, and he curses that gaudy-ass plant in the corner of the office by the window. He curses how the window overlooks a roof of the hospital, and how the room reeks of hand sanitizer. He curses his luck, and Lucille's luck, and he hates that he's going to have to watch her die. And now, he's going to have to watch her forget in the process._

_He looks hopelessly up at the doctor, angry and defeated and afraid. "...what do I do?"_

\- - - - -

Lucille's been heavy on Negan's mind ever since he got back from Galveston. He's been home all of two weeks, and she's everywhere. It started out in his dreams, not unlike the couple of years following her death. But now, he thinks about her at work, and his mind drowns out the television at home with thoughts of her.

Maybe it's some sort of coping mechanism. It's like a blast from the past, with how often she haunts him, but it feels different. Almost like a review of all the things that had happened--as if he's taking each of his memories of her and tucking them away in a mental file that he's going to lock up and swallow the key.

He doesn't want to forget Lucille, but after everything on that ship--after Rick's little pep talk outside of that pool--Negan knows he can't stew on it any longer. He's not exactly a beacon of optimism, but he feels like it'd be an insult to Rick Grimes if he didn't at least try and take the guy's advice, especially after having asked for it himself. So, tucking away the bad memories and growing from the good ones, it is.

It sucks for his emotional state right now, but Negan's not exactly in control of it anyway, and he hopes it's kind of like ripping off a long band-aid--painful as shit until it's over, but the scar's all that's left once it's done.

As for Rick, Negan misses him too, and he attributes the guy heavily to his sudden recollection of all things late-wife. He's long-since come to accept and embrace his interest in Rick, and a part of doing so likely involves putting Lucille into the past. A part of him is still screaming ' _I'll never forget you, baby!_ ', but he's getting there.

He still hasn't texted Rick back, and he feels like shit for it. He looks at the fucking message every single day--the letters are practically burned into the back of his skull--to the point that he can hear it in that gravely southern drawl that shakes Negan straight to the core and makes him wish he could just wrap his arms around the guy one more time, feel that skin on his lips, taste him just once more.

And it's stupid, because all he's got to do is _text back_.

But what does he _say_?

It probably shouldn't be this difficult. In fact, Negan can come up with a 'miss you too' in record time. And he's tried. Really, he has. He's had the entire three words typed up in the text box and everything. But when it comes time to hit send, he can't bring himself to do it.

Kind of pathetic, isn't it? A guy halfway through his lifespan with enough wisdom to decide what makes up a good fucking text message, who can't do it.

And there's literally no reason for doubt. When Negan thinks back to Rick on the cruise ship, he sees only good things. He sees those blue eyes, that facetious, drunken little grin, those plump lips, the way Rick walks like a damn cowboy...he sees that firm, convincing expression on Rick's face right before he shoved Negan into the pool, and the smile after they kissed.

But then he sits back, puts the phone down, and covers his eyes. Every single time. Somehow, 'miss you too' doesn't seem to do the feeling any justice. And though Negan could wax poetic and send Rick an entire paragraph of how he's handling them being apart, he also _can't._

He feels useless and lazy, and he feels like a coward, and that's a label Negan _hates_ creating for himself.

A bunch of Simon's other friends have invited him and Negan back for a welcoming party of sorts, even though they've only been gone a week. But hey, any excuse to get out of the house and away from the goddamn school for five fucking seconds is a good excuse to him.

So here he is, at Sherry and Dwight's house, with a metric fuckton of other people there. Negan recognizes Arat and her girlfriend, Laura, and he spots Dwight and Simon chatting it up by the grill. The one Negan has always jokingly called 'Fat Joey' is sitting at a picnic table, tossing magnetic darts at a dartboard that's mounted up on the wall of the garage. Sherry and Dwight have a pool not far from their garage driveway, where people are currently taking turns attempting cannonballs. Inside the open garage are tables of food and drinks, ranging from sandwich meat and bread and cheese to pretzels, beer, soda, and water. Dwight's stereo system blares rock songs Negan has so far deemed to be anywhere from the eighties to today's shit.

Everyone's having a good time, and it's nice to come back to this.

"Mark, watch out!" A woman squeals, just as a water balloon collides with the back of Negan's head and ruptures, spraying water all down his neck and back. Initially, he's pissed, and he spins in the direction the balloon came from. He finds a tall, lanky blond man, who is now holding both hands up defensively.

"Sorry man--was playing with my girlfriend and didn't see you there." This must be the 'Mark' the girl had been talking about. Negan wants to tell him off, but instead, he turns and faces the little blonde woman who had screamed for her boyfriend to watch out. She and her man are both in their swimsuits and soaked to the bone. The girl has her hair tied back, and a piece of broken balloon hangs from the top of it.

"You, uh..." Negan motions to her ponytail with his finger, and the girl reaches up to feel where he's pointing. She laughs and casts the piece of rubber away.

"Thanks. And sorry about the balloon." The girl looks genuinely apologetic, before she nods to her boyfriend. "Mark and I were getting really into it. We'll stay out of your way from now on."

Negan shrugs. "I'll let it slide this time, sister."

Mark, Negan, and this girl end up spending some time together. The girl, who Negan learns is named Amber, leads them inside and upstairs to a large upstairs balcony, where a patio table, chairs, and cooler full of beers await them. It overlooks the pool and garage area. Apparently, Amber knows Dwight and Simon through Sherry, who she's best friends with. She's in the middle of telling her story right now.

"Right out of high school, I was an alcoholic." She says, as if it's nothing. She seems to look back on the memory with some level of amusement. Negan starts to feel like he's the only one who takes memories as seriously as he does, which is almost embarrassing. "I'd drink whatever I could get my hands on. Wasn't for any real reason at first, but it got to a point where I couldn't function without some amount of alcohol in my system."

Negan glances over to Mark, who doesn't seem too fond of the discussion, but he's allowing it because for whatever reason, Amber feels the need to talk about it. So many people, so okay with their vices.

She continues, either unaware or uncaring of the situation. "It cost me a lot of jobs, but I eventually started working at this steakhouse that had a popular bar. I was a server, and Sherry was one of my coworkers. She was the first one who saw that something was wrong, and she reached out to me. Pulled some intervention-level shit on me, got me into a place and the rest is history!" She flashes both Mark and Negan a bright smile. "Been clean for six years, now."

It's not like Negan didn't expect a good ending, considering Amber's sitting right here talking to him, but damn if he hadn't been a little worried. He sighs and shakes his head. "There a reason you felt compelled to tell me about all that?"

Amber blinks, and then shakes her head. "Not really, no. Guess that's just what I felt like talking about. Besides," she holds up the beer she's drinking, "it's nice to be able to brag about doing this without worrying about a relapse."

Negan can't shake the feeling that she hadn't just happened upon that topic, though. He frowns, but eventually shrugs it off and focuses on his own beer.

"What about this guy?" Negan questions after a long swig of the drink, motioning to Mark.

Mark shrugs. "I'm a good friend of Dwight's. Met her through him and Sherry."

"Been together just about as long as I've been clean." Amber says with a smile, and even though their situation's got nothing to do with his, Negan finds himself smiling too.

"Well, alright." He says, the praise in his tone.

The party lasts well into the evening, and even after the sun sets, people are still playing in the pool. Now that they've all had their fair share of beers, they're all a little more than drunk. Amber is among the more sober ones. At present, Mark and Dwight are engaged in a heated dart game, with Joey acting as the referee from the sidelines. They're all laughing and shoving one another around, and Negan grins over at them from his spot just outside of the garage. Amber cheers her boyfriend on from next to the picnic table.

It's been fun pretty far, and someone(Negan honestly doesn't know who) has ordered a bunch of pizzas, the boxes of which are now strewn across the driveway and garage. Some of the more drunk people are trying to use them as a skateboard, and Negan laughs and winces when one of them falls on their ass and scrapes the shit out of their elbow in doing so.

Negan's got four beers in his system, so perhaps he's a little gone, but that doesn't stop him from noticing how blue the pool water suddenly looks. Maybe it's the backlight from the bottom of the pool, but damn, that's a nice blue. A familiar blue.

"There you are." Simon's voice pulls Negan out of his thoughts, and with some relief, Negan turns to acknowledge him. He faces his friend, who is clutching a beer in one hand and offering one out to Negan in the other. "What do you think?"

Negan accepts the beer, grinning lazily. "I think I never expected to be welcomed back from a vacation with a house party, so this is pretty fucking badass."

"It is, isn't it?" Simon laughs. "Dwight told me they're all gonna get together later and tell us to fuck off for not taking them with us."

"You mean tell _you_ to fuck off." Negan retorts. "You're the one who paid for it all."

Simon shrugs. "All the more reason not to take them with us. Shit's expensive. And by the way," Negan startles when Simon gives him a rough shove, "your spa thing was fucking ridiculous! Might as well have bought an extra cruise ticket with that money!"

Negan just laughs. "Should've known, Simon--you can't promise me you're paying for everything and not expect me to take advantage. And for the record," he shoves back, "that spa thing was fucking _worth it_. Not only did it feel like dipping your balls into the fountain of youth, but I got me a date out of it, so you can suck it."

"Speaking of which," Simon suddenly calms down, making it clear the extra money spent either was not unexpected or just doesn't bother him any, "I saw you ran into Amber. How'd you two hit it off?"

"...Dude, she's taken." Negan deadpans.

"No shit." Simon says back. "I meant, she's pretty cool, yeah? You guys were up there talking for a while. How'd it go?"

"Uh...good, I guess? Why the fuck do you care so...wait." It suddenly occurs to Negan that Amber had just randomly brought up her addiction and how someone had come into her life and helped her escape that addiction, and how she'd started talking about that seemingly out of the blue. Did Simon really go to such lengths just to get her to say that to Negan? What the hell's his angle? "You're the one who made her talk to me. You got me hit with a water balloon, you fucking dipshit."

"I didn't ask her to do that part." Simon raises both hands in a gesture of surrender. "I just told her to talk to you, so that's on her."

"Why?" Because it's great and all that the girl managed to escape something as debilitating as addiction, but bringing it up like that hadn't seemed inconspicuous at all. Negan had told himself Amber just liked to talk about her situation, but now that Simon's been proven guilty, he knows better.

"Why not?" Simon retorts, which Negan half-expects anyway. "It's good to talk about shit like that. It shows she's moved on. And look how happy she is, now."

Negan's not stupid. He knows exactly what Simon's getting at. This is about him being all mopey before their vacation, and he apparently doesn't think Negan's come out of it. Which he's probably right about, considering Lucille's recent and more frequent appearances in his subconscious mind.

So Simon probably thinks that showing Negan what happens when someone embraces the chances they're given is going to help him out of this slump somehow. And yeah, it's kind of sweet that he's got a friend who cares so damned much about his well-being to keep pushing like this. But following that pattern means that Negan, in a roundabout way, met Rick through Simon, and reaching out to Rick would mean not living in Nebraska any longer.

Could he really just uproot himself for a guy spent five days with?

The worst part about it is that Negan actually contemplates it. He realizes in his own mind that he's got Simon, his small circle of friends, and the kids he teaches at the school here. Simon seems an awful fucking lot like he would be happy for Negan if he up and left, and his kids...well, he'd miss the shit out of them, but he's not the most important part of their lives. They'll have a new teacher next year, anyway.

It almost sounds feasible.

But what tells him he's going to make it in Georgia? How would that look in a job interview? 'Oh, I fell in puppy love with a total stranger on a boat on the outskirts of Mexico and decided I needed to travel a thousand miles to be with him' sounds promising, right?

Negan's not about to up and leave, though. He doesn't know how Rick feels about all of this. And on top of that, he has yet to text the guy back. Kind of hard to acquire a person's opinion when you're too chicken-shit to talk to them.

The 'fuck off' Simon was talking about never comes. In fact, just a few hours later, Negan finds himself back at home, fresh out of a shower, and lying half-naked on his bed. He's exhausted from the party, and the booze in his system makes his limbs feel heavy. He passes out right there atop his mattress, with a towel wrapped around his waist and without even bothering to pull the sheets onto his body.

\- - - - -

_Negan can usually tell when Lucille isn't remembering by the look in her eyes. The warm hues Negan's so fond of looking into are usually dark and unfocused when she's having issues with her memory. She looks at him, her husband, with a confused stare, and she rocks her head back and forth as she analyzes the lines of his face. She asks him questions he's answered a thousand times: Where is her side of the family? Why have they been married so long, but without kids? Why is Negan so much of an asshole sometimes?_

_Negan watches her stare at her spoon one day, and it occurs to him that she sees her reflection. She sees the bald head and the heavy bags underneath her eyes. She sees how bony her face has gotten, and how pale her complexion is._

_She cries, and even though Negan moves swiftly to comfort her, he doesn't know what to do. It's been a month since the addition to her diagnosis, and Negan's still clueless as ever. He feels useless, and like a failure of a husband, and like any other time, he's cursing the fact that Lucille has to be the one to die. She has so much potential, and here she is, falling apart right in front of him._

_A cruel, cruel part of him wishes she'd die, already. She's so sick--so very sick--and suffering and miserable. She deserves some peace._

_But the more prominent, more selfish part of Negan still finds himself hoping she'll pull out of it. How's he even supposed to go on without her?_

_He finds himself crying along with her._

\- - - - -

When Negan wakes up, he's freezing his ass off. His air conditioner is full-fucking-blast, and it makes it all too obvious that he's got next to nothing on his body in the vein of clothes or blankets. He curses and comes out of the bed in nothing flat, practically racing to his thermostat so he can turn that shit up a few notches. His dick feels like it's goddamn inverted with the temperature in this fucking place.

The air conditioner clicks off, and Negan makes a beeline for his closet. He seeks out a pair of thick flannel pajama pants he usually never wears (because it's often too hot instead of too cold) and a long-sleeved shirt, and once his body doesn't feel like it's about to lock up from the cold, he leans against the closet door and breathes a sigh of relief.

And then he remembers his dream.

Lucille's memory loss was easily one of the hardest parts of her illness, for the both of them. Negan never knew what to expect when he would come home. Some days, she was angry because she couldn't recognize him and felt like her home was being invaded, and others, she was lonely and tearful and would come flying into his arms.

So very different from the woman he had fallen in love with and married so quickly. But that never stopped Negan from dedicating himself to her all the way to the end. He did what the doctor told him and tried his best to reorient her. Sometimes, he played along. Whatever seemed to fit the mood was better.

He does what Rick told him and exhales the memory away--tucks it into that file and instead thinks of the times when her memory wasn't all that bad. When he would come home and she would either smile at him or ask him what took him so damned long.

Another sigh, and he's ready to continue his day.

\- - - - -

Negan's in his office with the door open, trying to finish his lunch while his kids run laps in the gym. He can see them moving and hear their voices, so he isn't terribly concerned about losing sight of any of them. He hears a couple of them scream every now and then, but that's nothing unusual. A bunch of schoolkids tend to get pretty noisy from time to time.

He pulls out his phone and navigates to Rick's message. Stares at it for a solid minute, and tries to think of how to answer. If he's being honest, he would much rather hear the guy's voice and see his face than type a bunch of letters at him, even if he _does_ get letters back in response. He just...knows it isn't going to feel the same.

And hell, maybe that's what he needs. He spent the entire vacation telling himself this was a passing craze and that he would go home and be over it in a week, but now that he's not, he can't help but wonder if he was wrong. Or if he's just hung up on it because he hasn't texted Rick back. He hasn't gotten to see how things flesh out after this. They don't have a Lido deck or a restaurant or a comedy club they can retreat to. It's just...text messaging.

Negan realizes that a huge part of why he's having difficulty getting back to Rick is because it really _is_ that different. He's almost worried that it'll be like talking to a totally different person, and part of the neat thing about having talked to Rick as much as Negan did was that he got to _see_ him.

With that thought in mind, even if they did enter a relationship, could a long-distance one work?

Negan's throat clenches when he realizes he's going to have to pay Rick a visit before he can figure any of this out. Which also means he's going to have to decide what to text him back. He's going to have to communicate with him, and soon, if he's going to actually see him.

Does he want to? God, yes, he wants to. When he thinks about it, he almost feels short of breath, and when he pictures those blue eyes or that relaxed, wisdom-filled nature, he swears he's going to suffocate to death.

And what kind of cheesy motherfucker with corny thoughts like those _doesn't_ want to see the person he's entertaining those thoughts about?

So, 'miss you too', it is. And Negan's just about to type that shit out when he notices someone standing in front of his desk. The figure is just close enough that it looks tall and shadowy in front of Negan, and he finds himself yelping in surprise, phone shooting out of his hand, and sending the rest of his lunch flying everywhere.

"Oh shit, Coach--I'm sorry!" Ron Anderson's an unpredictable kid as it is--angry one minute, closed off the next, and sometimes, the funniest little shit Negan's ever seen--so when his ass pops up and scares the fuck out of Negan, he decides he's not all that damned surprised.

And it helps that he manages to lunge over Negan's desk and catch his phone before it lands in the sloppy mess on his desk that had at one point been his lunch. He sheepishly offers the item back to Negan.

"You saved my fucking phone--we're even." Negan takes the object back and slides it into his pocket as he moves to gather up some paper towels. The mess has not only reached his desk, but it's on his chest and in his lap, and Negan is frankly surprised it didn't get on any of the papers he'd been working on before he'd started eating. Either way, he gets straight to cleaning. "What do you need?"

"Time's up." Ron answers, motioning behind him with his thumb. "Laps are over. Just need to know what's next."

"Uh, dodgeball today." Negan thinks aloud as he frantically works to stop the mess from spreading. "Think you can get that started in a half-ass-organized fashion, Anderson?"

Ron hesitates, but Negan hears him respond after a few moments. "Yeah, sure thing. Thanks, Coach."

"And Anderson!" Negan stops the student from running out the door. Ron pauses and turns to look at him. "Watch your fucking language. You get me in trouble for that shit, and I'm gonna be pissed."

Negan's colorful vocabulary is no surprise, and Ron, despite the conversation, doesn't seem to mind. He just nods, waves, and heads right back out the door. Negan supposes this level of freedom is the good part to teaching high school kids instead of younger ones. He has to keep an eye on them, yeah, but for the most part, they've got their shit together.

And they're also willing to ignore Negan's profanity.

However, after he finishes up cleaning, he decides it's probably a good idea to step out and check on everyone. Ron's making good on his word--the teams seem fairly balanced, and the game is actually playing out pretty evenly. Ron and a girl named Lizzie seem to be the two most powerful players on their team, but everyone on the other side is evenly-balanced enough that they're managing to keep up.

Negan's proud of his kids, and he likes them a lot. Cares for them. Wishes them the best.

Does he want to leave them?

Jesus god, why is he thinking about this so deeply? Maybe he really _does_ need to talk to Rick about it.

\- - - - -

_Lucille's angry. She doesn't recognize Negan at all, and it surprises him just how strong she can be when fear and anger and confusion all come out at the same time. She keeps roaring for Negan to get out, but he's frightened to do so with her in this state. Her memory has gotten so unpredictable that Negan fears he might come home to her dead on the floor. And yeah, his cynical side says she's going to die anyway, but fucking still. He would rather be by her side when it happens. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he let her die alone._

_Some days, she talks to Negan like she did before her diagnosis, scolding him for the way he talks to his kids or kissing at his neck and telling him how much she loves him. But more often than not, she's gone. Sometimes, it's just forgetting names and dates, and others, it's forgetting so much as how to brush her own teeth. This cancer is cruel and evil, and Negan bitterly loathes it from a distance while he tries desperately to be by his wife's side._

_Tonight, however, 'by her side' just isn't something that's going to happen. He tries to talk her back to the present, but she isn't having it. She throws a plate across the room, and Negan doesn't have the heart to stop her himself. She's horrified of him right now--he doesn't want to make her hate him any more than her memory tells her to right now._

_So he does the only thing he can, and the thing he doesn't yet realize he will regret for years to come._

_He calls 911._

_\- - - - -_

Negan doesn't remember falling asleep after work, but when he wakes up, it's on his couch in his living room, and he's sweating fucking buckets. He realizes it's probably because he forgot to turn the goddamn thermostat back down before he left for work, but holy hell, does he know now.

As he moves to adjust the thermostat, he also realizes just how tired he still is. It might just be because he'd snapped right out of a dead sleep, but his vision is dragging like crazy. Flecks of blue light dig at the corners of his periphery and he almost feels nauseated. Shit...is he coming down with something?

Negan decides to take a shower. A very cold, relaxing shower. He doesn't bother grabbing a change of clothes on his way in--just scoops a towel out of the hall closet and flips on the cold water, stripping down and climbing inside.

At first, the cold is a little overwhelming. But after a few seconds, it feels nice. He closes his eyes, tips his head back into the spray, and lets out a sigh. The nausea is starting to ebb away, so he dares to let his eyelids flutter open again.

And then it all just changes. Negan's staring down at his hands, watching the water from the shower spray pool in his palms and spill out over his fingertips. And when it hits the ground, it's suddenly blue. Blue pours out and stains the rest of the water, contaminating it and spreading along the shower floor. Negan takes a step back, but the blue swells around him, and when he looks up, the bright color is spreading along the tub like roots.

He swallows nervously, because _what the fuck is going on?_ His eyes widen as the blue creeps up from the tub along the walls, and then it's everywhere. It engulfs him, makes him feel colder. He shakes his head, closes his eyes, digs the heels of his hands into his sockets, because this isn't right, this isn't right, something is so fucking wrong right now...

And when he opens his eyes, it's gone. The water is just water, and the tub is as pristine white as it's ever been. He inhales sharply, and exhales shakily. Starts to wash the sweat from his body.

The voice that fills his ears as he does so makes his blood run cold.

_"Miss you already."_

\- - - - -

Negan's staring at the ceiling, panting. He's on the couch all over again, and it hits him that he'd just had a fucking dream within a goddamned dream. A dream about his summer fling within a dream about his late wife. God, Negan's mind is fucked up something fierce, lately...

He finally breaks down and reaches for his phone, but instead of typing out a message, he dials Rick's number directly.

He's sweating like he was in the dream, so as he waits for Rick to pick up, he goes and adjusts the thermostat for real. Thankfully, he doesn't feel as groggy as he did in his dream. The phone rings once, twice, three times, and then halfway through the fourth, the ringing stops.

"...Negan?"

Rick's voice is quiet, but it roars like the ocean in Negan's ears. He feels anxiety fall away like shingles in a hailstorm, and he finds himself leaning back against the wall in his hallway and breathing a sigh of relief.

"Hey, Blue Eyes."

"What the hell?" Rick's comeback isn't exactly a shocker. Negan's spent the past two weeks waffling back and forth without communication, so it's no surprise that Rick's a little irritated.

"Yeah, you're gonna have to cut me some fucking slack on that one." Negan answers breathily. "But, listen...can we talk? Do you have time...?"

He's sweaty, but decides the shower can wait until he gets off the phone. Which is going to take a while, because he's telling Rick literally _everything_. Lucille's memory, the events that showed up in his dreams(save for the one in the shower, because Negan already sounds pathetic enough as it is), how he thinks it's his way of letting go, but it's really exasperating and even though he's been procrastinating talking to Rick, he actually thinks he could use the guy's company in dealing with it.

And yeah, he thinks he wants to pay Rick a visit in Georgia. He comes to the verbal consensus with Rick that he won't be able to do it until summer actually hits, in just over a month, but it's just so relieving that he's decided to up and talk about it.

He sits in the hallway of his home, leaning against that wall, as he talks to Rick until his phone is hot against his ear and alerting him that his battery is running low. After he finishes coming clean about Lucille, their conversation shifts as per usual, and Negan takes some relief in noticing that while it sucks he can't see Rick's face as he talks, hearing his voice is almost as good. He can hear the blue, fluid and soft and sweet, rushing in his words, and more times than not, he closes his eyes and just...enjoys the sound.

He can faintly hear Rick's kids in the distance. Carl asks who his dad is talking to, and Rick points out that it's someone he met on the cruise, and Negan doesn't hear much else from the kid aside from him scolding Judith for getting into things. And Judith, she goes back and forth a lot. Sometimes, Negan feels like she's right by the phone by how close her voice sounds, and others, it sounds like she's across the house. She talks like her dad, though, probably a result of him being the only parent for her since birth. Rick seems proud enough, and that's all that matters.

It isn't until Negan stops hearing the children and just hears Rick that he looks at the time. And when he sees that it's pushing midnight, he whistles. He's been on the phone for literally hours, and upon inspecting his screen, he sees that he's only got three percent battery left. Well, shit.

He doesn't know what to call the way he behaves when he's with Rick, but it doesn't feel like himself. Or maybe it's not like the himself he's grown to know in the years following Lucille's passing. He almost feels younger, like he still has a chance at a love life. And even though Negan knows he can get by relatively fine without a spouse for the rest of his life, he's actually a pretty lonely fucking guy. It's why he has Simon up his ass most of the time about doing things and going places and socializing.

It's hard to try and explain to your best friend that people stop being as interesting when the one who mattered more than anything is long gone. You lose faith in humanity really fucking quickly when you see that Random Douchebag A and his wife are happy on the streets, and neither of them look even remotely cancer-stricken. Or that Random Prickface B is proposing to his girlfriend in the park and they don't seem the slightest bit aware that life could take a turn for the worst for them in a matter of seconds.

Negan knows this: cancer doesn't discriminate. Lucille was one of the most amazing human beings to grace the planet. Feisty, facetious, and grounded all in one package. And for whatever reason, she had chosen Negan to spend the rest of her life with.

He doesn't think that way when he's with Rick, though. The guy himself has got such a wise outlook on life that it's hard to not catch that wisdom like a damn flu. Negan allowed himself to get caught up in his negative feelings just once during his vacation on that ship. And when he did, it was in front of Rick, in a plea for advice. It was the single greatest use of those negative feelings Negan could ever have imagined, too. Not only did he get himself some great counseling on the subject, from someone who genuinely understood where he was coming from, but he got...Rick.

And he still feels like he has Rick. A thousand miles away, and he still feels like he has him. Rick did pick up the phone after being ignored for two weeks, after all. Or, well, he'd thought he'd been ignored. Negan actually couldn't get him out of his mind for more than an hour, so it was quite the opposite, but as Rick has probably learned by now, Negan handles things...quite interestingly.

"Don't you have work tomorrow?" Negan asks, breaking his train of thought when he realizes the three percent mark on his phone has ticked down to two.

"Yeah." Rick laughs breathily, and Negan can hear his smile. He can almost see those blue eyes darting around sleepily as he thinks about it, too. "Don't you?"

"I've been sleeping all day." Negan answers. "Came home after work and passed the fuck out. But you've got kids and that pretty face to worry about, Sleeping Beauty. You should go get some rest."

Rick's laughing again. "I guess you're right. But I'm kinda reluctant to hang up."

"Why?"

"...You're gonna call again, right?" Rick's tone is heavy, and that simultaneously scares the shit out of Negan and flatters him.

"Yeah, Blue Eyes. Yeah, I'm gonna." He answers. He kind of feels like he's going to hurl, but in the best way possible. "Sorry I've been a fucking prick these past couple of weeks. I just had to sort out my shit...y'know, mentally."

"...I know." Rick's voice warms Negan all the way down to the bones, and he doesn't realize it, but he's smiling.

"But hey." Negan says, chuckling. "As much as I'd stay on here chatting with you until the fucking ass-crack of dawn, I've got like a couple percent battery left. I gotta go, okay?"

"Okay." Rick answers. "Call back tomorrow around the same time. Judith really wanted to talk to you, and I think I'm gonna let her."

"You got it." Negan responds. "Alright, Rick. I'll talk to you then."

"You better." Rick teases. "Bye, Negan."

"Oh, Rick?" Negan quickly interjects. For a few seconds, it's quiet. Negan thinks Rick might have hung up already.

"...Yeah?" Thank fuck.

Negan sighs, and even though Rick can't see it, he scratches at the back of his neck. "I missed you already, too. Like the very fucking instant you got on that damn bus."

There's a long silence, in which Negan finds he's holding his fucking breath, before Rick bursts out laughing yet again. Negan thinks he hears him scratching at his beard over the phone. "You're a big fucking sap, Negan. Goodnight."

And then the phone call is over, and Negan's at one percent battery, and even though he should be making a mad dash to get his phone back on the charger, he's just sitting there, chuckling to himself. His chest, which he doesn't realize until now has been clenched tight, relaxes and he feels exhausted. Talking to Rick over the phone for the first time is like running laps with his kids (which even Negan would admit he'd probably suck at at this point), and as relieved as he is that the tight feeling is gone, he wishes he just had five more percent left on his phone.

He feels giddy--stupidly so--and when he finally stands, he realizes it's on shaky legs. Negan tries to blame it on the fact that he's been on his ass for hours(and it probably is partly because of that, but good try, Negan), even though he knows he's been anticipating communicating with Rick and _this_ is the effect it has on him.

He's already thinking about the phone call tomorrow. But for now, he weeble-wobbles his way to his room, plugs his phone in, and ambles to the shower to get cleaned up.

\- - - - -

Simon pays Negan a visit at the school the next day, during his students' lunch hour. He comes bearing a coffee just the way Negan likes it--a mocha cappuccino with two shots of espresso--as well as a microwave pot pie. It's no surprise Simon heard about what happened to his lunch yesterday through Jessie Anderson, Ron's mother. Negan knows the guy's been trying to hook up with her for a while now. Not that he blames him--she's smoking hot, and a total sweetheart. But Simon also knows she just came out of an abusive relationship, so Negan knows he's been taking it one step at a time.

Negan knows he can be a damn good friend for sure, so he imagines Jessie quite enjoys that part of whatever's going on between them.

"Ron thought it was the funniest thing, by the way." Simon announces as Negan accepts the offerings and takes a sip of his coffee.

"That little shitass." Negan scoffs. "He was all apologies at me yesterday. But I guess the fucker saved my phone, so I won't take it too personally."

"Good boy." Simon praises, and when he tries to ruffle Negan's hair, Negan slinks out of the way.

"Fuck you for that." Negan grumbles, stealing another swig of his coffee, before he throws his pot pie into the microwave. "But thank you for this shit."

Simon shrugs, and then the room goes silent. A minute passes by, with the only sounds in the office being the ticking of the wall-mounted clock and the hum of the microwave, before Negan clears his throat.

"I called Rick last night." He sees the way Simon turns to look at him, both eyebrows raised, and clears his throat again. "Had this really fucked up dream about his goddamn eye color, Simon. It feels weird--like I'm obsessed with him or some shit." He doesn't dare use the 'L' word, because, news-flash, five fucking days, but damn if Rick doesn't give his stomach a giant herd of butterflies when he talks to him.

"Obsessed?" Simon scoffs. "Negan, you were all over the guy on the cruise, and he was all about you in the process. Is it really so hard to think there might be a thing going between you two?"

"No, fuck no, it's not." Negan shakes his head, leaning back against the counter next to the microwave. The perks of being gym teacher is that he gets his own microwave and office, since the gym isn't directly connected to the school. He can cook his food whenever the fuck he wants to. "But isn't it a little weird? I've got a lot of baggage. Been dreaming of Lucille and shit. When I called him last night, I told him all about that, and he didn't sound like he gave a shit, but I also didn't tell him about what I dreamed about him."

"Didn't you tell him about Lucille on the ship?" Simon questions. He's got his own coffee, which he's sipping freely on now.

"Yeah. Asked him for advice about her, and he gave me some good-ass, therapy-quality fucking suggestions."

"So what the hell are you so damn worried about?" Simon rolls his shoulders, then cracks his neck, almost as if he's still waking up. Negan wouldn't be surprised if he is. "He cares. Look, Negan--you don't have to abandon Lucille to be with this guy. She's probably always gonna be there. But here Rick is, arms wide open, and you're sitting there like your ass is impaled on a fucking record-spinner. Get him before someone else does. It doesn't take a genius to see that you two need to be together, like, yesterday."

Negan smirks. "You motherfucker. Do you write fanfiction about us, too?"

"Drink your coffee, asshole." Simon rolls his eyes.

"And for the record, we did talk about meeting up." Negan's calm, and actually pretty appreciative of his friend's efforts. He takes his meal out of the microwave, cursing at how hot it is, and moves it to his desk to cool off. "Just won't be able to do so until summer." He laughs. "I'm counting down already."

"I'm proud of you." Simon teases, though Negan doesn't feel like he's entirely being an asshole. How long has he been pushing for Negan to do something like this, after all?

Another silence follows, before Negan speaks up again. "His daughter wants to talk to me on the phone tonight."

He looks over at Simon just in time to see his expression go from surprised to amused, with a big grin spreading across his lips and making his mustache somehow look longer than it already is. "Damn, Negan."

\- - - - -

Talking to Judith is actually pretty fun. She's definitely all of five years old, with her weird questions about his his hair and what the beach was like and if the water really looked like blue jello. She giggles happily every time Negan answers, and tells him she wishes she could meet him in person. Negan almost feels like he's known her as long as he's known Rick. She questions him for almost half an hour.

"And just one more thing, Mister Negan." She says. Negan admires how articulate she is. "Don't break my Daddy, okay?"

Negan feels like he's swallowed his tongue. "...Break him?"

"Yeah. In the heart." Judith's voice is high-pitched, but it grows quieter as she starts speaking more seriously. "He smiled a lot when he talked to you last night. I bet he loves you, like, like, how Rapunzel loves Flynn."

Negan wants to question how she got this observation all over one phone conversation, but he also has to remind himself that she's five.

"...Okay, I won't break him." Negan manages. "In the heart or anywhere else."

"Good. Because if you do, I'll punch you in the testicles."

Negan hears Rick call out, _"Judy!"_ from the other side of the phone call, before the phone jostles around and Rick's voice comes across the receiver.

"Sorry about that." He apologizes, and Negan's just laughing. "She said a lot of things, didn't she?"

"She sure as shit did." Negan says in between snickers. "That girl is your fucking daughter, Rick Grimes. No doubt about it. But I gotta ask," Negan smirks, though he knows Rick's not going to be able to see it over a phone call, " _do_ you love me like Rapunzel loves Flynn?"

"Negan. She's _five._ "

"Would you leave your tower for me--let me show you the world?"

" _Negan_."

"Let me take you to see the lanterns?"

"Oh, come on--wait a minute." Rick pauses over the phone. "You've watched that movie more than once, haven't you?"

Negan lets out a sound somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. "High school kids really love that movie. And...yeah, it's grown on me."

"I knew it." Rick jokes. "So, Negan, how many animated movies do you own?"

"Hey man," Negan retorts, "I'm not about to deny liking me some good animated shit. Can't tell if you're teasing me, but I've got enough to have your little girl planted right on her ass in front of the television screen for fucking _hours_. I've got _Home, Tangled, Up,_ all three of the _Shrek_ movies--and, well...guess you'll just have to see my collection to find out."

"My daughter lives on that kinda stuff, Negan." Rick says. "Sounds like we've got a competition on our hands."

"You're on, Blue Eyes." Negan answers.

Not unlike the night before, their conversation draws on for hours. Negan plugs his phone in while he talks, lying on his bed and just enjoying shooting the shit with Rick. He hears that familiar silence from the other side--when the kids have gone off to bed--before Rick suddenly speaks up again.

"So, Negan." Rick starts. Does Negan detect a hint of nervousness in his voice? "...Got a confession to make."

"Go right the fuck ahead, Rick." Negan urges patiently. He notices his own voice has softened over the hours they've been talking, though he doesn't know if it's because he's just been talking so much he's losing it or that he's watched nighttime creep in and thinks for some reason he has to quiet down because the sun has gone to bed. He and Rick are in for another late night, it sure seems. "Spill your guts to me."

"Not gonna call it 'love' like Judith did," Rick starts, and Negan feels his stomach try to come right out of his skin with the sheer force of the backflip it does, "but she's onto somethin'. I definitely like you like Rapunzel likes Flynn. A lot. Sure can't wait to see you this summer."

Why does that admission hit Negan so hard? He's known Rick's been into him since the end of the first night of the cruise. So 'like' isn't really all that much of a confession. But still, it feels like one. It hits Negan like a ton of bricks, or like he's standing out in the forefront of a massive storm and the gale force winds are hurling shit into his face and stomach and chest. And maybe it's just because he's been stewing over his own feelings for the past two weeks so intensely that it feels like he's being slammed with the best news in the goddamn world that the feeling's mutual.

But he definitely feels it.

He doesn't think he can wait until summer to see Rick. He really doesn't.

"Me too. Fuck, Rick. Me too." His entire body lights up like a Christmas tree, and Rick's words ignite everything inside him, all the way to the core. They're still echoing in his head, clear until they reverberate through his nerve endings, his bones, and work their way down to, yep, you guessed it.

Who would Negan be if not suddenly very aroused by Rick's confession?

"At risk of killing the mood here," Negan's glad Rick's kids are in bed now, "I've got to admit that that is the biggest fucking turn-on, you coming clean to me about your feelings like that."

Rick lets out a breathy laugh, and when he inhales again, Negan can practically hear the sigh in his voice. "Of course you'd take it that way. Are you seriously gettin' turned on over there?"

"You forget who I am, Rick." Negan scoffs. "I'm in a perpetual state of arousal when it comes to you. My dick could chisel through ice right now. Too bad you can't get your ass over here."

Negan hears Rick hesitate, and he swears there's the sound of the other man swallowing on the other side. "...Think we could manage over the phone?"

Oh, _wow_. Even during a phone call, Negan and Rick can't stop from being all over each other. Negan finds himself doing the exact same swallowing thing Rick just did moments ago, before he nods. And after he nods, he realizes that Rick can't see what he's doing, so he clears his throat.

"You pose an interesting as fuck question, Rick." Negan's never opposed to a challenge, especially one like this. With his dick already half-hard for Rick right now, the only bad side to their current conversation is Rick isn't there for him to put it inside him. "Better grab a pillow, because you're gonna need to scream into it if you don't want to wake up the whole fucking neighborhood."

Negan swears he hears Rick shudder from the other end of the phone call. It surprises him that the other man is the first one to speak up after that.

"So tell me how turned on you are right now, Negan."

Whoa. The answer to that, Rick, is _very fucking much_ , especially when you talk like you're the damned boss. Negan's mind repeats Rick's request, and his cock twitches to life so quickly that it's almost painful. He's dizzy with how rapidly the blood seems to have evacuated his brain and went straight to his dick.

"Now?" Negan laughs. "So fucking much, you wouldn't believe it." He makes the first move, even though Rick can't see it, and unzips his pants. He pulls his erection from the confines of his boxer briefs and the fly to his pants, smirking down at just how aroused Rick's words have gotten him. "Got the flag raised like it's Dicky Needs a Slicky Saturday over here."

"Okay, Negan." Rick snorts. "First off, you can't say shit like that right now. And second, it's Wednesday."

"You're gonna have to get used to the shit I say, Rick." Negan reminds. "Especially if you're in this for the long haul. Oh, I got another one! Dingaling Needs a Flingaling Wednesday."

"Stop!" Rick is laughing hard, and it confuses Negan that said laughter and awkward commentary doesn't really stop him from having a hard-on as intense as his is right now. "You're killin' the mood."

"I am not, Rick." Negan snickers back. "You're popping the biggest boner for me right now and you know it."

"Stop talking!" Rick's laughter is finally weakening a bit, and then he lets out an amused sigh. Negan imagines he probably wipes a tear from his eye. "You talked like that the whole cruise--I know I've signed up for it. You got me--still turned on. Now say somethin' sexy before that changes."

It's Negan's turn to laugh, before he settles himself back more comfortably on the bed. "You mean that wasn't sexy enough for you? Alright then, Rick. Whip out your dick, strap in, and brace yourself, because I'm about to make this so fucking sexy that you'll be apologizing to me for weeks for ever having doubted me."

There's a silence, which Negan takes is Rick's way of saying 'go on...', so he does just that.

"Where are you at right now?"

"My room." Rick laughs, but this time, it's a breathy one. Negan likes the way the exhales sound over the phone.

"In your bed?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Now get yourself real fucking comfortable. Like you're just about to hit the hay." Negan's already in the zone, the phone clutched to his ear in his left hand while he just casually gives himself a few strokes to get started. "Remember how fucking sexy it was to have me on you? Remember how good I felt kissing your neck, hands all over your body?"

There's a pause, and then an inhale from Rick. "...Yeah."

"Picture that shit again." Negan's voice grows husky as he strokes himself into full arousal. The friction is pleasant, so he's probably a bit breathy, too. "Imagine I'm kissing the shit out of you. Think of us rocking together. Shit, Rick...is your dick all hard for me yet?"

Rick almost moans, and Negan knows that he does, because he hears the other man's breath hitch over the phone. "It is, Negan. You know it is...What're you gonna do next?"

"That's a tough one." Negan thinks aloud as he inhales through his teeth. His thumb drags across the slit of his cock, and he arches up off the bed a little. "I think I'm gonna get down between your legs and proceed to blow your fucking mind. How long's it been since you had your dick in someone's mouth, Rick? I bet you'd make all kinds of delicious sounds for me."

"Shit...Negan." Rick groans.

"Are you touching yourself right now?" Negan questions. "God, I bet you look so good with your dick in your hand, face all red from how good it feels."

"Yeah, I am...You'd better be, too." Rick tries to laugh, but it comes across as more heavy breathing than anything.

"I do...fuck yeah, I do. How's it feel, Rick?" Negan continues. His own breathing is becoming ragged as his strokes become a little more paced.

"So good, Negan...fuck, it feels good." Negan can't remember a time he heard Rick curse on that ship--not like he is right now, at least. It quickly gets added to the list of things Negan finds incredibly arousing about Rick Grimes.

"You should fucking hear yourself right now, Rick...." Negan pants, his movements growing erratic. "You've got me falling apart over here. Keep telling me how good it feels."

Rick is silent for a few moments, but Negan can hear his breathing. It's probably kind of hard to focus, what with all the sensations and Negan's encouragement overwhelming him. God, how Negan wishes he could see Rick's face right now.

"It's beyond good." Rick moans. "I'm so close already...shit, Negan..."

Negan doesn't remember when he got from aroused to close, but the minute Rick says that, Negan might as well consider himself done. His nerves ignite, burning somewhere at the base of his spine and erupting throughout his body. He's so close that it's blocking his fucking vision. "Me too, Rick...go ahead, baby. Come for me."

And he does. Negan hears the string of curses and moans that signal his orgasm, and that's all it takes to finish him off, too. He pumps out his climax right along with Rick's until they're both just panting and trying to catch their breath over the phone.

And then Rick starts laughing again. "...Be right back. Gotta clean up."

Despite the implications that they might have further conversation to attend to, their talk that night doesn't last much longer. They decide it's time to attempt to get some rest, since they both have work in the morning. Negan promises to call again, though. He wishes 'Rapunzel' a good night, and Rick tells him to shut up. Despite that, they exchange fond 'goodnight's, and then hang up their phones.

And then Negan finds himself just lying on his back, processing, as his body starts to relax and the afterglow wears off fully. His mind is racing and at the same time, everything just feels...okay. Like there's a chip in an iceberg that has turned into a crack, and that crack is now spreading like wildfire down the ice. Negan feels like it's going to shatter any day now, and something is finally going to give.

Right before he falls asleep, he pulls out his phone and shoots Rick a quick text message:

_"i've made a monster, haven't i?"_

\- - - - -

_Negan's call to 911 was a good call, even if it comes with bad news. Lucille is taken to the emergency room, and it's recommended to Negan to allow her to be sent to a psychiatric unit to be evaluated for psychosis. The doctor explains to him that when one's memories are affected, the only things left are the instinctive ones--fear and anger--and that they can figure out which meds work best for her there. That if she really has developed psychosis, she could be dangerous to herself and others._

_Negan isn't crazy about the idea, but he agrees anyway. However, before she can be sent out, one of the tumors in her brain cuts off the blood flow and she has a stroke. Negan soon finds himself waiting in the ICU, always by her side._

_Nurses suggest he go home and get some sleep, but he can't bring himself to. He's too afraid that he might come back to find her dead, or even further gone._

_He begs for her to wake up. Just five more minutes of his wife's smiling face...that's all he wants. But she remains still, as stationary and unconscious as ever. She's beautiful, even with the pallor on her face and the cold, chalky darkness underneath her eyes. Negan wonders if she's dreaming._

_A week later, she comes out of her sleep. She recognizes Negan instantly. He feels the emotion bubbling up at the back of his throat in intense waves as she throws her arms around him and cries into his shoulder. She apologizes to him time and time again, tells him how much she loves him. The doctor visits her, and she listens attentively as the situation is explained._

_Negan sees nothing but knowledge on her face. She knows she's sick, and she knows her memory isn't always there. She knows who she is and who Negan is, and that she's going to die. And that knowledge eventually becomes impatience. When she opens her mouth to speak, Negan can't believe what he's hearing._

_"I'm tired. My husband is tired. I don't want to prolong this anymore."_

_And that's that. Lucille's rare moment of clarity results in her decision to die freely. And when she looks up at Negan, she smiles with a softness that aches right down into Negan's spine. She reaches up to touch his face._

_"Don't fucking look at me like that, Negan. You need this as much as I do."_

\- - - - -

Negan awakens in a gasp for air, his eyes wide and frantic. Anxiety swells around him like the looming threat of a hurricane, and he's paralyzed with fear. His arms and legs feel cold, and he realizes just how empty the bed he's lying in feels. He's sweating again, and...are those tears? Jesus god, is he seriously crying right now?

He feels sick, but it's so deep in the pit of his stomach that he doesn't think he could throw up even if he wanted to.

Lucille is dead. She's gone. She's never coming back. And she had long accepted that. She'd asked for Negan to do the same. He can still see her eyes and her smile as she had done so. He can feel her fingers on his face. Hear the warmth of her voice. Smell the mixture of her perfume and hospital sanitizer in the room.

Negan cries openly. He rests there in his bed, forearm over his eyes, and sobs until his lungs ache from ragged breathing and his eyes sting from the tears. He doesn't remember the last time he'd done that, but once he's done and his breathing has eased up somewhat, he feels an odd sense of relief.

It's like he needed it. And now that he's done so, he can attempt to do what she wanted him to do.

What Rick wants him to do.

Rick's still alive. He's so far away, but he's still alive. And he's a chance for Negan. He's a very real chance at a life with someone who makes every moment interesting. Someone who shows a different side every day, puts his strongest foot forward, and cares with every ounce of his being.

Negan flops over and reaches for his phone. He unlocks it and starts up a text message.

There's no way he's going to be able to wait until summer to see Rick.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, this chapter is dedicated to both my maternal grandfather and my paternal grandfather. My maternal grandfather passed away in 2015 due to Alzheimer's, and my paternal grandfather passed away on Valentine's day of 2012 from multiple different cancers, one of them being brain cancer. 
> 
> Rest in peace, Marvin Aikins and Roy Brinson. I love you two and miss you so very much. 
> 
> I had contemplated flashbacks like what I included in this chapter, but went back and forth on it for basically the past two paragraphs. Rick and Negan weren't initially going to talk during the chapter at all, either. But I feel like this is better, and leads more smoothly into the next chapter.
> 
> Negan had to do a lot of soul-searching in this chapter, so I hope it wasn't too OOC! Thanks again for reading, everyone. c:
> 
> Also, you can blame metalbutter for the Dicky Needs a Slicky line lmao


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negan manages a visit to Rick's home, but he almost doesn't want to go back. He learns he's not the only one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest chapter I have ever written and actually submitted for anything. I probably could have broken it off into a couple of chapters, but after a harrowing amount of work being put into this thing and a long reread, I just couldn't find a good interruption in which to separate. So here you have it, a 28-page-long update to Blue Jello!
> 
> Prepare yourself for a lot of feelings, because this has got to be the sappiest thing I've ever written. Thank you so much to all of you who have encouraged me when it comes to this chapter. I waxed and waned so many times--even contemplated rewriting the whole damned thing. 
> 
> In retrospect, I'm glad I didn't.
> 
> Anywho, enjoy!

"Agh, god fucking _damn_ it!"

There's blue _everywhere_. Negan honestly hasn't intended to make such a big mess, but here he is, covered in splashes of blue, all because he just can't stir neatly. In reality, he's a good as fuck cook, but that doesn't mean he's a neat one.

He still doesn't know how he managed to pull this off without anyone suspecting anything. It started with asking Rick for Glenn's number so he could see how he and Maggie were doing. With he and Rick discussing the possibility of meeting in person, he figured it'd be a good idea to get to know his circle of friends a little better, and Glenn was actually pleasantly surprised to hear from him.

Through Glenn, Negan found himself getting in touch with Maggie, and the three of them hatched a plan. It was simple enough: once Negan got his week of paid vacation approved(good thing he's worked long enough to accrue more than just one week of vacation), he was to book a flight to Atlanta, where he would take a bus to King County. Upon arrival, Maggie would let him into Rick's house, and he would surprise him.

 _"Once you get done meetin' your boyfriend though,"_ Maggie had warned as she sought out the spare key from a loose piece of wood on Rick's shed, _"I'm gonna slug you in your smug face for takin' so long to get back in touch with him."_

Negan thinks that's fair enough, and considering Maggie's still somehow been willing to let him into Rick's house while he's away at work and his kids are at school, he probably deserves to let her have a few free hits, to be honest.

Either way, he's being literally the most cliche person right now, stirring hot water and jello mix into a bowl hurriedly. He's got to get it cooling and get cleaned up before Rick gets home. Maggie has given him a run-down of his work schedule, and at present, he has about four hours to make himself ready to plead his case.

What he's doing _is_ breaking and entering, after all, and Rick's a cop. Negan hasn't exactly told Rick he flew over here yet, so he's got a lot of explaining to do. It doesn't really matter how strongly either man feels for the other--this isn't territory someone in a new relationship usually traverses. But Negan continues to remind himself that Maggie and Glenn wouldn't have helped him devise this idea if they thought Rick would react negatively to it.

Either way, he's already starting to regret the cheesy little idea he got for a housewarming dish at this point. He's got blue splashes all over his face and the white T-shirt he's wearing, and there are little blue stains on the counter and the tile kitchen floor. Negan finally slides the covered bowl into the fridge and tries to get to work cleaning up the mess he's made of Rick's kitchen. He's still got a few dishes to do, and then he's going to have to use Rick's shower to wash all the berry-flavored mess off of his face and neck and hands. But from the looks of it, he has some time to get it done.

Or rather, he thinks he does. It's as he's scrubbing at the stains on the floor in front of the counter that divides the dining room and kitchen that Negan hears the door click and come open. He does the only thing he can think to do--stays on the ground behind the counter.

A teenage voice echoes through the entire first floor of the Grimes house. "Yeah, she had an accident and then got too embarrassed to stay at school. She just kept crying, they said." Negan's heard Carl's voice in the distance over the phone during the conversations he's had with Rick, so he knows it's him, probably talking about Judith. The little girl whines, confirming Negan's suspicion.

He clutches the washcloth he was using to scrub the floor and maintains his impromptu hiding place behind the counter for now. He's not one hundred percent sure why, because they're going to find him anyway, but he does. He hadn't planned for them to arrive early, so for now, he listens in on the conversation while he decides what to do next.

"That's alright. I'll get her in the bath and we'll figure out some lunch." Rick's voice in person sounds a million times better than it did over the phone, and Negan starts to wonder how in the hell he had taken so much of this guy for granted while they were on the ship. "...Smells like Jolly Ranchers in here."

"Yeah, it does." Carl laughs at his father's observation, and then there are footsteps heading upstairs. It sounds like multiple pairs of feet, so Negan pushes himself back up into a standing position and gets back to work cleaning. He hunts down a new washcloth and starts scrubbing the counter.

The good news is that jello stains come out more easily than Negan expected. He's soon got the counter looking as clean as it was before he showed up.

The bad news is that Carl's spotted him. Negan looks up from his work to see the teen gawking at him from the dining room. His stare is sharp like his father's, and his eyebrows are curled up, mouth hanging open slightly in confusion. It's obvious he doesn't quite know _what_ to think. He's got one hand on the strap of his backpack, which is slung over his shoulder, as he tilts his head to the side like a curious puppy.

Negan clears his throat, smiles, and then nods to the kid. Yes, he's aware that he's still covered in jello stains. "How's it hanging?"

Almost as if Negan's speaking has validated his presence to Carl, he instantly calls out to his father when prompted with that question.

"Dad! There's some blue spotted guy hanging out in our kitchen!"

Negan feels the color drain from his complexion. This is _not_ how he wanted to greet Rick. It's not like he's going to be able to sneak upstairs and steal a shower now, but he'd at least like to scrub the stains from his face with a washcloth or something before meeting face-to-face with Rick--the guy he's doing all this crazy, stupid shit for.

Too late now, though. Rick's footsteps can be heard passing down a hallway, and then on the stairs once more.

"You're gonna have to say that again, because I swear I heard..." Rick stops dead in his tracks next to his son when he lays eyes on Negan in the kitchen. The silence is palpable. Rick's eyes are wide open, and Negan can see a mixture of several different things in those deep blue oceans. Shock is at the forefront, but Negan swears he sees that same warmth he saw on the ship, and something else...something he can't quite place.

Rick nods to Carl. "...I need you to finish up Judy's bath, okay?"

Carl swallows, but obeys regardless and starts up the stairs. Negan can tell he wants to see how the whole encounter between his father and the blue spotted guy is going to play out, but he heads up the stairs nonetheless.

Which leaves just Rick and Negan standing on either side of the counter, staring one another down. Negan suddenly feels like they're on that ship again, and his legs almost want to give out from the phantom movement of the room around him. He doesn't remember being this goddamn nervous before, but here he is, like a kid meeting a celebrity crush for the first time, all heart flutters and borderline nausea, and also covered in fucking goddamned jello stains.

And it doesn't help that Rick's still in uniform--all decked out in his sheriff gear, save for the hat, which he's deposited on the dining room table. He looks damn good, and Negan just looks downright embarrassing.

"How'd you get into my house?" Rick questions, and Negan notices how he sounds almost out of breath. His stomach clenches.

"Maggie helped me." He states plainly. "We wanted to surprise you."

"She helped you break into my house?" Rick frowns.

"She knew where the key was." Negan isn't sure if he's defending himself or Maggie.

Rick changes the subject. "What's with the blue spots?"

Negan looks away, suddenly highly embarrassed. Looking back on it, he doesn't expect Rick to hold the blue jello thing as dearly as Negan himself does. Hell, he wouldn't be surprised if Rick doesn't even remember commenting on the color of the water as vividly as Negan does. It's silly, now that he thinks about it. Negan holds the memory more closely than he probably should, and explaining himself is probably going to get him straight up laughed at.

And in Negan's defense, this whole thing is embarrassing enough that he doesn't care to make it any worse.

Thankfully, Rick's suddenly right in front of him, looking at the spots himself. Negan leans back instinctively, because even though the smaller man isn't saying anything, he feels like he's being interrogated.

"You smell like blue raspberry." Rick thinks aloud. Negan looks into those blue eyes once more, but when he's expecting to meet scrutiny and instead sees something more akin to delight, he can't bring himself to respond. He's starting to realize that Rick doesn't really care too much about the spots and has moved in more out of his own personal desire to get close.

When Rick places a hand on Negan's chest and curls his fingers around the fabric of his T-shirt, he knows he's right. The other man seems momentarily lost in thought, but eventually turns his gaze up to meet Negan's once more. Negan sees the way his throat bobs as he swallows.

"...You're really here." He realizes aloud, and Negan too finds himself becoming more and more aware of the fact that this is happening. That he and Rick Grimes really have reunited.

"Yeah." Negan agrees. "I am."

Rick bites his lower lip, and Negan's diaphragm feels like it just outright leaves his body when he sees the hint of emotion on the smaller man's face. Rick isn't exactly crying, but damn, does he ever look soft right now. Soft, like he was in the massage parlor, and like he was when he talked about Lori. Soft, like he was when he was lying naked beneath Negan for the first time.

The sound of water turning on upstairs comes in time with Rick's movements. In one swift motion, he has Negan against the counter, bodies pressed close together. That hypnotic gaze flickers a shade darker, before Negan catches sight of that familiar gleam once more, and once he does, Rick's mouth is on his.

It's so different from any other kiss they've shared. Rick's the one pulling him in. He's got a hand placed on the crook of Negan's neck and he's holding him in close as he draws back, and it's obvious he doesn't want to let go. Negan pushes as Rick pulls, and the next thing he knows, he's got his hands tangled in Rick's hair. He spins the other man around and breaks off the kiss so that he can heft him onto the counter. But once Rick's safely planted on the edge of the surface, Negan's going right back in.

Even though it feels like years since the two last came together like this, Negan feels like it's second nature. He's got his hands on Rick's thighs, standing in between his legs, as he tips his head up into what's shaping up to be a very passionate kiss. Rick's arms are wrapped tightly around his neck, and they're all lips and teeth and tongues, breathing heavy, eyes closed as they slip fully into the moment.

Negan thinks he wants to take Rick right there, and the smaller man isn't making any effort to stop him, but with the children wide awake and able to come downstairs any minute, He decides against it. It's only been a handful of weeks, but it feels like fucking forever. But if things work out the way he's been hoping they will, he and Rick will have plenty of time to get caught up in the moment later on.

He breaks away from the kiss and speaks up breathily. "I can get a hotel if you don't want to keep me here, but--"

"--Shut up." Rick kisses him again, and Negan groans right into his mouth when he feels those legs curl around his body from on the counter. Damn it, Rick...you're about to make getting around until nighttime one hell of a fucking challenge. When Rick's lips part from Negan's once more, he pulls him into a hug. "You know as well as I do that you're stayin' here."

Negan slings his arms up and around the other man's form, grinning in relief up at the flourescent kitchen light above him. "Yeah...Just had to make sure."

It seems Rick's heated, desperate moment has long-since faded, because at that point, he sits back on the palms of his hands and just stares down at Negan. His lips curl upward into a curious grin. "...But really...why the blue spots?"

Oh god, not that question again. Negan just frowns, however, and raises his hands into a shrug. "You'll find out in roughly four hours."

He watches as Rick scrunches his brow down, but seems satisfied enough after a while. "If you say so." There's some mischief in his look though, and Negan realizes too late just what that look is about when Rick leans forward and drags his tongue over one of the blue spots on Negan's left cheek. His tongue is wet and slick and hot, and as he pulls away from that one long, languid stroke of his tongue, Negan shudders almost violently. He can imagine a couple of things that tongue would be good for.

"Tastes like jello." Rick says as he leans back.

Negan rests his forearms on Rick's thighs and smirks up at him. "You don't say? Why don't you show me?"

When Rick scoffs and leans down to kiss him, Negan tastes blue raspberry and _warmth_ and _Rick_ , and he finds himself sighing pleasantly into it. The kiss is slow as Negan's tongue savors the taste his partner had just licked off of his skin, and as he tilts his head to the side and deepens it, he can't resist the urge to ball his hands into fists around Rick's uniform top, pulling him in even closer.

And for a moment, that's all there is--just the two men kissing and tasting and touching for the first time in what had felt like _so long_ , getting lost in one another like the many times they had on that cruise ship and in that hotel.

But when a soft 'eww' hits Negan's eardrums, he quickly breaks off the kiss and follows the sound. Carl's standing at the base of the stairs, looking nothing short of horrified at the sight of his father perched atop a counter and wrapped around some half-blue-dalmation stranger. In the poor kid's defense, they did practically have their tongues down one another's throats.

"Don't tell me you guys were gonna do it on the kitchen counter." Carl groans, wincing now. "We make food there."

Negan can't help himself. "Just because I don't tell you doesn't mean we're not fucking going to--"

" _Negan_." Rick whispers, though the urgency in his voice makes it louder and effectively defeats the purpose of whispering altogether.

"He walked into it." Negan defends. Not a second afterward, he finds himself greeted to a faceful of Rick's hand as the sheriff shoves him back and away from between his legs.

"No, we weren't." Rick clears his throat, hopping down, and Negan notices the quick little adjustment he does to his pants. "Sorry you had to see that."

"Yeah, me too." Carl's still looking at his father like he's just taken a big bite out of a lemon. "I was just coming down here to get a clean towel out of the dryer."

As he starts toward what Negan guesses is the laundry room, he calls out, "Oh, can you get us one? We're gonna need it!"

He takes a heavy amount of amusement out of the choking noise Rick makes, followed by Carl's groan of disapproval. Sure enough though, the teen comes out of the laundry room with two towels. He balls one up and launches it at Negan's face. Negan catches it and lowers it from his eyes just in time to see Carl shoot him a deadpan glare.

"You must be Negan." And like that, he's heading back upstairs.

After that, the downstairs is quiet. Negan just grins at Rick. "I like that your son didn't recognize me until he saw us sucking face."

Rick sighs. "Well why wouldn't he? Judith already knows there's somethin' between us and she hasn't even met you yet."

"Fair enough." Negan shrugs as he watches Rick open the fridge and withdraw two cans of root beer from the door. He seems oblivious to the bowl of blue liquid on the shelves for the time being. Either that, or he's aware of it and doesn't question it. Regardless, he offers one of the cans to Negan.

"So," Rick starts as he cracks open his can, "last I checked, it wasn't summer yet, and here you are." Those blue eyes are serious for a moment, and Negan almost recoils under the weight of the stare. "Couldn't wait to come see me?"

"That's..." Negan scratches the back of his head, before he lowers his hand and opens his root beer. He takes a swig and swallows it hard. It burns in his chest. "Exactly why. But surely, you knew that was coming."

"I don't know." Rick answers, the tiniest of grins on his lips. "I wondered, but never had myself convinced." His words make Negan wonder if that translates to 'I've been wishing you would just pop up and surprise me one day', and he finds himself genuinely hoping that's exactly the translation.

Negan wants to blurt it all out--to just tell Rick everything, from the dream about the shower to how desperately he's missed him, to how he's never left his mind for longer than an hour--but there's that hesitation all over again. And he sort of trusts that hesitation. It's that hesitation that had eventually convinced him that texting didn't cut it, and that he actually needed to _call_ Rick, and he's sure that hesitation will make it perfectly clear when the right time is to drop a bomb of feelings on this guy again.

After all, Rick's probably a bit overwhelmed by Negan showing up in his house to really process it right now anyway.

"Welp, here I am." Negan announces, before he sneaks in one more quick kiss and slings the towel Carl gave him over his shoulders. "In any case, Funnyman and his wife have invited myself and your family to a cookout tonight. You in?

It's a Monday, so Negan isn't terribly surprised when Rick actually takes the time to think deeply about the offer. He's probably got to worry about getting the kids to bed at a decent hour, and even though Negan doesn't have to work, he does. So it all makes sense.

But it's nice to see Rick smile up at him in agreement. "Okay, yeah. Just help me get Judith and Carl home for bed when the time comes, alright?"

"You got it, babe." Negan smirks.

He notices the quirk in Rick's eyebrow. "...babe? Does that make all this official?"

The stairs creak, and Judith can be heard singing her ABCs as she and Carl make their way down. Negan's smirk has yet to fade, and his eyes are locked on Rick's blue ones. "If you're agreeable to it. I'll be here, just fucking waiting, as long as you need to decide."

For Negan, it's the simple fact that it's not like he can get Rick out of his mind. At this point, long distance or no distance, he's stuck on Rick like fucking E6000 and he knows that feeling isn't going anywhere.

Because Rick is everywhere. Rick lives in his present, and he lives in his past, and Negan knows he's going to live in his future. He resides in all the shades of blue in his memories, and it's like he hides right behind Negan's eyelids. Negan thinks about him on the daily--his hands, his eyes, how good he looks writhing beneath him when he fucks him. That shade of blue he wears so well, that warm smile...that goddamn wisdom...

Negan had fallen fast and hard for Lucille, so maybe it's not so unfounded that he's in love with Rick. That's sure what it seems like, unless this is some hardcore honeymoon phase bullshit. But considering how long he'd been married to Lucille, and how he's seen what love looks like after the honeymoon phase is gone, he doubts it.

These are the things he thinks about as he, Rick, Judith, and Carl all walk down the street, toward Maggie's and Glenn's place. Carl and Judith are walking hand-in-hand a couple of yards ahead of Rick and Negan, who are just strolling along behind them.

"That's it right there." Rick says, motioning to the house they're going to be stopping at. Glenn and Maggie live in a one-story brick house with a long porch and a sprawling yard. It's one of those places where the mailbox is right out by the street and therefore a decent walk from the house. It's a well-maintained home, and as they approach, Negan can smell the smoke from the grill. A man Negan doesn't recognize is at the grill, scowling at the food he's cooking almost suspiciously. He's a gruff-looking guy. Another man stands next to said guy, long hair pulled back into a low ponytail so he can help inspect the food on the grill.

"That's Daryl, and that's Jesus." Rick says, pointing from the gruff man to the long-haired one respectively. Negan sees Beth approach the two men, jogging over from Maggie's porch with a plate of raw hamburgers.

In the yard, a dark-haired girl roughly Carl's age sits, shaving away at a chunk of wood with a small pocket knife. Carl gives Judith a quick kiss to the forehead before he runs over to the other teenager, plopping down on the grass next to her. There are all kinds of new faces scattered about the widespread yard, some clutching beers and chattering amongst one another and others congregating with the kids. Judith breaks away from Rick and Negan and sprints across the yard, practically throwing herself at the taller of two women.

"That's Michonne." Rick informs, motioning to the woman now holding an excited Judith. He then nods to the woman next to her. "And Andrea. They live next door."

Despite all the name-dropping, Negan spends the initial part of the cookout by Rick's side. All these people are really nice, but it's Rick he's come to see. So he chatters with the other man, moving about the area alongside him, until the sun sets and evening wears down into night. Maggie puts on music, and Rick and Negan walk Carl and Judith home. Rick instructs Carl to lock the door, to which the teenager proclaims that he's almost eighteen and can handle one night home alone, and then he and Negan head back to the Maggie's and Glenn's house, where the cookout has turned into a party.

Even Negan wasn't expecting things to get too crazy tonight, with it being a weekday and all, but here everyone is, drinking beer like it's water and jamming to loud music. Negan has at least learned, however, that they're all from roughly the same neighborhood, so they don't really have to worry about pissing off their neighbors. Negan makes a joke about Rick being a cop and crashing the party, and Rick rolls his eyes.

Negan's intention wasn't to drink, but when a guy named Shane offers him and Rick beers, he doesn't decline. They talk briefly and Negan learns that the two of them had been best friends at one point. Rick still considers Shane a close friend, but after the kids were born, the two haven't been able to hang out as much outside of their partnership at work. Understandable.

But Shane's soon dragged off by his date for some dancing that he's awfully eager about.

Negan's only one and a half beers in, so he isn't really drunk. He assumes Rick isn't either, but that doesn't stop him from casting a glance down at the other man. He even throws on a facetious grin for good measure.

"...What?" Rick asks predictably.

"C'mon." Negan waves to the section of yard where some of the partiers have started dancing. He still hasn't gotten to see Rick do much more than a little dirty dancing back on that ship. He really wants to get the guy moving.

"What?" The smaller man repeats, before he frowns and shakes his head. "No way, Negan. You're not gettin' me out there."

Negan rolls his eyes. "These are people you fucking know, Rick. They're not gonna give a shit."

"But they have eyes." Rick quips. "Eyes they can _see_ with. I don't want that."

"Please?" Negan tries, though he knows he doesn't sound terribly genuine, so he instead motions to Andrea and Michonne. "Look at the girlfriends over there. Blondie's fucking got two left feet like you do, and she's still having a good time."

Rick frowns deeply, and Negan finds that his stomach does a flip at the possibility of having him convinced. Regardless of that, Rick glares at him. "...One song, Negan. And then you gotta stop askin'."

Negan's hands fly up in surrender. "Deal." He offers out a hand, which Rick reluctantly takes, and pulls him right into the patch of yard that is assumed to be the dance floor. Andrea approaches and hands both men plastic shotglasses with what Negan guesses is either vodka or tequila silver in them.

"Hook 'em!" She demands, and that's when things get exciting. Negan sees Rick's eyes light up, and apparently, encouragement from his friends is just what he needs, because he holds his cup into the air, linking his arm with Negan's. The tiny grin Rick's sporting spreads out into a daring smirk, and as both men tip their heads back and shoot their liquor, the people watching let out a long, loud cheer.

Even on the ship, Negan didn't get to see Rick like this. He'd gotten to see him laugh--hell, he'd _made_ him laugh--, joke, wrestle, and all kinds of other things, but dancing and taking shots? This feels like a new victory.

Negan clears the burn out of his throat, then licks his lips and looks down at Rick. It's like the heat from the tequila (he knows that's what it is now) lights a fire behind Rick's eyes, because the way he's looking at Negan is with some level of excitement, as if Andrea had slipped him twelve shots instead of just one. Rick's done a complete one-eighty.

Maybe it's the music. Maggie's got Beth's Spotify playlist on Shuffle, and it's so far played damn near everything from country to hard rock to EDM. Right now, the tune is some ravey little thing, and everyone around them is moving.

"Gotta say, Rick." Negan starts, taking another shot from Andrea. "I'm fucking digging the sudden enthusiasm."

Rick shrugs and downs his second shot. "Just figured if you're gettin' one dance, I better give you somethin' to remember." He shakes his head. "Gonna be honest though--got no idea how to start."

"That's where I come in." Negan reminds him. He waits the last few seconds it takes for the song to end and jump to the next one. Beth's playlist is unpredictable that he's not sure if they're going to be slow-dancing or doing the damn Washing Machine, so when the fucking Macarena comes on, Negan has to resist the urge to piss himself laughing.

When he looks over at Rick to see the other man gawking at him, he just shakes his head. "Everyone knows this fucking dance. Just follow my lead."

"I know the Macarena, Negan." Rick deadpans.

This isn't the dance Negan wanted to see him do, but Rick falls into step with everyone else regardless. Negan almost sees relief on the other man's face as he joins in. In a way, Negan understands. Rick doesn't want to embarrass himself. Fair enough, Negan can sympathize with that. In fact, he almost feels guilty for trying to talk Rick into dancing when he's not feeling it anyway.

But in his defense, Rick's getting pretty into it. Maggie and Beth are cheering him on from their spot on the yard, and all the moving around must be helping to settle the alcohol further into his system, because Negan swears he sees Rick's hips swing a little every time he goes through the little spin sequence in the dance.

When it ends, everyone cheers and Negan slips up behind Rick, hooking his arms around his partner's waist. He tips his head and presses a kiss to the smaller man's temple. "You didn't have to do that, and you fucking did. Took it like a champ. Thank you, Rick."

Things get a little crazier from then on, and Rick and Negan resort to spending their time leaned up against a tree near the house while everyone loses their damn minds. The shots are going around like Halloween candy at this point, and Negan makes another crack at Rick being sheriff, a la ' _is this a public disturbance?_ ', to which Rick continuously rolls his eyes.

They all herd inside for body shots, but Rick and Negan stay outside, still standing next to one another, leaned up against that tree. Rick looks up, resting his head back against the bark, and laughs.

"It's times like this when I realize how old I'm gettin'."

Negan raises an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah?"

Rick nods. "I'm glad it quieted down out here. It escalated so fast."

"Yeah." Negan chuckles. "It did. You ready to go back home?"

"I think so." Rick answers, before he slides a hand down and takes Negan's.

There's something a little off with Rick from there. He goes silent, and Negan can't tell if it's the influence of the alcohol or something else, but he's not about to deny that he's a little concerned. Every now and then, he turns his gaze to look at the other man to make sure he's alright. Rick always glances back up at him and flashes a quick smile, but he never says anything.

Even once they're inside and making their way up to Rick's bedroom, he's quiet. But once Rick shuts the door behind them, Negan speaks up.

"...You got real fucking quiet there, Rick." He observes. "You alright...?"

Rick approaches. He turns his head up to meet Negan's eyes, and nods. As he reaches out and starts tugging Negan's shirt off of him, he finally responds. "I just didn't want to say somethin' stupid while I was out there--that's all."

"Oh, yeah?" Negan questions as he arches his back, helping Rick get him out of his shirt. "Like what? Can't imagine any of the shit you could come up with would be any more stupid than half the fucking things your neighbors were saying."

"It's pretty stupid." Rick retorts matter-of-factly, and then pulls off his own shirt. His eyes meet Negan's once more, before he sweeps in close and slides his arms around Negan's waist. Negan shudders when Rick buries his face in the crook of his neck and exhales. The bare contact is a treat Negan desperately missed, and Rick's warm breath against his skin is even better.

"Okay..." Negan laughs. Rick smells somewhat like alcohol. The alarm clock on his bed proclaims that it's nearly one in the morning. Negan contemplates suggesting Rick not go into work tomorrow. "Fucking try me, then. I bet it's not half as bad as you think it is."

There's a long pause, before Rick finally pulls back. He looks almost out of character with the way he glances down at the ground and clears his throat.

"I wanted to do body shots." He admits, much to Negan's surprise. It isn't stupid, but it's definitely not what he expected to hear. "Never done 'em before, and I didn't want to do 'em with everyone else around. Just you and me."

"Oh?" Negan's grinning all over again. "Well, I'll tell you what--I'm here until Sunday. Friday night, we'll do body shots, just you and me. But for now," he nods over Rick's shoulder to his bed, "you've probably got a long-as-fuck day ahead of you tomorrow. Let's go to sleep."

Sleep is the actual intention, though it doesn't happen right away. The two men get comfortable in Rick's bed, with Rick's head nestled on Negan's arm and Negan's other arm around his waist. But then, Rick's fingers start wandering on his partner's chest and down to his abdomen. Negan tells Rick just once that he's gonna be exhausted at work the next day if they don't sleep soon, but when Rick keeps going anyway, that's all the encouraging he needs to roll atop him and entertain both their physical urges for a while.

Even though Negan's exhausted and he can tell Rick is, they're both so absorbed in one another that it doesn't even matter. Negan's fucking Rick roughly into the pillows beneath him, and he takes an unhealthy amount of enjoyment in the way the smaller man's mouth hangs open to allow his pleasured noises to fall freely from it with each thrust.

For a few moments after the sex, they're both still trying to catch their breath, and Rick's fingers are wandering yet again. He scoots in close, cuddles right back up against Negan's body, and trails his hand down the side of his partner's face. Their eyes meet, and then fall shut as they capture one another's lips in a slow, much-needed kiss.

Sleep takes them mid-embrace, and they fall asleep with their faces just inches apart on the same pillow, Rick's hand resting somewhere near Negan's chin.

\- - - - -

In the morning, Rick doesn't call in. Negan watches him from his bed as he exits the shower and starts getting dressed. When Rick glances at him, he just grins sleepily back. He enjoys the way Rick crawls atop him and steals a few hungry kisses before departing for work. It leaves him with a little problem, but Negan resolves that in the shower and then gets out and brushes his teeth, ready to start his day.

Judith and Carl both have school, which leaves Negan by himself at Rick's place all morning. He ends up going exploring and finds a supermarket within walking distance of the Grimes home. After a quick shopping trip, he comes back with two armfuls of groceries, and then he busies himself with preparing a crock pot dinner for everyone.

He's a good cook--likes to do it, actually. And with nothing better to do during the day, he figures he might as well.

Judith and Carl come home before Rick does. Negan greets them, and they both offer him a wave before heading upstairs. Negan busies himself with cutting up potatoes and onions--so much so that he doesn't realize he's being watched until the one doing so sneezes.

He looks up to see Judith sitting on one of the barstools on the opposite side of the counter he's using. Her stare is fixed so intently on him that he actually stops what he's doing and meets her gaze with his own.

"...Judy, right?" He starts.

"Uh-huh." Judith answers.

"We haven't really gotten to talk yet, have we?" Negan realizes aloud. He offers out a hand to her. "I'm Negan."

"I know." She shrugs. "We talked on the phone, 'member?" She makes no effort to shake his hand, so he withdraws it.

"Yeah." Negan smiles. "I do. But it's good to meet you in person."

He watches Carl enter the living room and plop down in the armchair. It looks like he's working on homework. Casting a glance to Judith, Negan nods toward the couch. "Why don't you go sit in the living room with your brother and once I finish up here, we'll put a movie on. How's that sound? I'll even let you pick."

"Hmmm..." The little girl looks pensive, before she shakes her head in agreement and hops off of the barstool. "Okay! Hurry up, though."

Unsurprisingly, the movie of choice is Tangled. Carl groans aloud, making a comment about how they watch this one almost daily, but he focuses back on his homework and they don't hear much else out of him. He's probably used to it, Negan imagines. When the movie dwindles down to the end, to the scene where Rapunzel kisses Flynn, Judith looks like she might fall off the couch by how far on the edge of her seat she is. Negan can't help but grin. The food in the crock pot starts to smell good.

The next movie is Negan's choice--Mulan. He finds that Judith watches this one pretty often too, because both of them have most of the songs memorized. When 'I'll Make a Man Out of You' starts playing, he and Judith are able to sing every word almost perfectly. They get so into it that Judith hops off the couch and starts dancing, eventually pulling Negan to his feet to join her.

After that comes a very intense game of Hide and Seek, during which time Carl reclaims Netflix and starts watching what he wants to. It's when Negan finds Judith hiding in the cabinet under the bar counter that Rick returns from work. He looks particularly exhausted, but Negan notices that when he sees that everyone seems to be getting along well, he smiles.

"Hi, Judy!" Rick greets as his daughter runs up and throws her arms around his waist, giving him an exaggerated hug. Carl waves to his father from the couch, and Rick waves back. He then turns his attention to Negan. "...Somethin' smells good."

Even though Negan knows he's perfectly capable of cooking a good meal, he feels his chest puff out at the compliment, before he gestures back to the crock pot, which is sitting on the counter next to the stove. Steam rises from the little vent on the lid, bringing with it the delicious smell of their dinner.

"That, Rick," Negan says proudly, "is gonna be the best roast beef you've ever had."

Rick laughs, and once Judith jogs over to the couch to sit with Carl, he moves toward Negan, cupping the back of his head and pressing a kiss to his cheek. They linger there for a moment, before Negan steals a quick kiss and motions for Rick to follow him into the kitchen.

"It should be about done."

Negan takes some satisfaction in seeing how much everyone enjoys the meal he spent all day preparing. Judith eats all the carrots and beef from her bowl and then just about falls asleep in the rest of it, before Rick ushers her up to bed. Carl finishes, and before he retreats to his room, he makes a point to tell Negan in a monotone voice that supper was good.

That just leaves Negan and Rick, seated on the couch. A handful of seconds after Carl disappears into his bedroom, Rick turns to face Negan and smiles.

"Thanks." He says, scratching at his beard. "Most times, we have to go to someone else's house to get food like that. Kids don't like my cooking."

Negan shrugs. "Do _you_ like your cooking?"

"...Not really." Rick admits. "I'm not exactly the best at it."

"See?" Negan extends his arms. "We're fucking made for each other, I'm telling you." He sees Rick shake his head, a mild gesture of amusement, and then changes the subject. "You look worn out as shit...work pretty rough?"

Rick pauses for a second, but nods soon enough. "Yeah. Kept us real busy with traffic stops this afternoon."

"I can tell." Negan responds. "Is it always like that?"

"Not really." Rick shrugs. "Didn't get a break today. Usually, there's enough time for a couple of 'em if I want. Shane was sick, though."

"Hungover?" Negan wonders.

"Yeah, probably." Rick cracks a smile, but then glances down at the floor. He laughs a bit to himself. "This is strange..."

Negan frowns. "...Why?"

"Well," Rick's shoulders come up in yet another shrug, "this is so...domestic. We spent five days runnin' around on a cruise ship. You've never seen me like this. Doesn't that seem off to you?"

Negan lets out a scoff and shakes his head. "Not really. We can't expect every day to be a fucking cruise day, Rick. We're still the same, just in a different setting. And, fuck, if you ask me, I like what I see here." He licks his lips. "You look like goddamn dessert in that uniform. You gotta let me take it off of you."

He watches Rick raise an eyebrow, but soon enough, he's crawled into Negan's lap. Exhausted or not, he still gives Negan one of the most delicious, passionate kisses as he lets the older man work open his uniform. He breaks into soft chuckles against Negan's lips.

"Just make sure you keep the volume down, okay?" The little tease Rick is, he nips on Negan's lower lip as he pulls back to shrug his shirt off, which draws a little moan up from his partner's throat.

"No fucking promises if you're gonna do shit like that, Rick..."

\- - - - -

There's an odd pleasantness in the way things progress from there. There's no rush to get in as much interaction as possible. Negan spends the days with Rick's children, watching movies with Judith and playing darts with Carl, and after supper, reserves the nights for himself and Rick. It's definitely different from the cruise, and even from their brief handful of hours at the hotel, but it's nice. Rick doesn't complain about the domesticity of it anymore, and Negan gets the feeling he's starting to enjoy the company just as he himself is.

Judith and Carl grow quickly on Negan, and they seem to enjoy him as much as he enjoys them. Carl catches Negan and Judith playing with her dolls, and the three of them end up playing together. One night, Rick comes home late and Negan greets him with Judith asleep in his lap, surfing through Netflix while Carl snores from the armchair.

The night life is nice, too. Negan's definitely not complaining about being able to finish off the night with a quick romp, and Rick's happy to oblige. Every night, it's like Negan discovers something new about Rick. A particular spot he likes touched, or somewhere Negan just really likes messing with, a different way to pull him in close, or a different type of kiss. Every day, Negan feels more at home. He misses Prester, but the last time he felt the way he does right now was when he finally moved in with Lucille.

Three days in, and Negan is relieved he decided to make this trip when he did. It's been a source of affirmation for him--a reassurance that he and Rick actually stand a chance in an actual relationship. That what they found in one another on that cruise was more real than a casino, a bunch of pools, and a party deck. Negan still kisses Rick with the same amount of passion as he had the very first time, and Rick still melts into him goddamn near every single time. They still find escape from the real world in one another, especially when it's time to sleep. Negan's been so used to sleeping alone that it surprises him how content he is with Rick boxed up against him.

He's gonna tell Rick all of this before he leaves, too.

Things are going so well that Negan flows through each morning--each goodbye kiss before Rick leaves to work, and wave to the kids as they head out--flawlessly. He almost wishes he could drop everything back in Nebraska and stay here. But even Simon would probably kill him for something like that.

No, he knows he needs to be realistic about it. It might not be as much as what Rick has, but Negan's leaving a lot behind. And as real as all of this feels to him, he knows he needs to take his time and make sure it's what not only he wants to do, but what Rick wants him to do. Even now, with affirmation after affirmation, Negan still doubts that getting back on his feet is this easy.

On Friday, Judith has a half-day of school, so Negan walks her home. She tells him they're making dioramas in class, and that she's doing hers about cheerios because she can make all kinds of shapes with cheerios. She talks to Negan like she's known him for months--not unlike how Rick and Negan himself talk. Like he belongs. Like family.

And apparently, 'family' is the subject of the day, because immediately upon entering the house, Judith makes a beeline for the stairs.

"Negan," she says as she starts jogging up to the second floor, "there's someone I want you to meet." The spring in her step has Negan a little curious, though he doesn't find himself running up the stairs with her. He takes his time, because this kid's already taken a lot out of him this week. But when he reaches her room and finds her sitting on her bed, she looks almost solemn.

When she looks up at Negan, he sees apology in her eyes.

"If I show you, will you promise not to tell Daddy?" She requests, and Negan sees a mixture of pleading and an odd, childish trust in her stare.

What's the kid done? She got a kitten hidden somewhere in her room or something? Negan sure doesn't _hear_ any meowing or barking or croaking. God forbid it be a fucking tarantula. "Not gonna lie, Princess, but it depends on what you show me. If it's gonna get you hurt, I'm gonna have to talk to him about it."

"It's not." She pulls her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around them. "It's just...Daddy told me to keep it put away until after you left."

Negan frowns, as Judith reaches under her pillow and pulls something out. As he takes a seat on her bed next to her, she offers out a doll--the same doll that Judith had been pictured holding in the screenshots from Rick's phone.

Negan takes the doll, and Judith pulls herself back into that hunched up position, just watching. "...This is Lucille."

Negan turns the doll over in his hands, and...yeah, okay, he can see why Rick would've wanted Judith to keep it out of his sight. But there's a pang of something that Negan doesn't quite understand weighing down the pit of his stomach at the thought of Rick wanting to keep it away from him. Is he still afraid that Negan can't move on?

In Rick's defense, all Negan has told him ever since he'd come clean to him about Lucille was that he was having trouble getting past her death, and it's true. It's still hard to believe he'll ever be one hundred percent past it.

But...damn it...

He smiles sadly down at the doll and brushes some of her hair out of her face. "Hi, Lucille. I'm Negan." After swallowing a lump in his throat, he turns his head to regard Judith. "...Why'd your dad not want me to meet her?"

She shrugs. "Daddy said she would make you sad...does she?"

Negan hesitates, but nods slowly after a few moments. "Yeah...but not in a bad way, I don't think." He feels like he owes Judith an explanation since she apparently needed to show him what her dad had told her not to, but he also has enough common sense to know that he's got to be careful with his words. Rick hasn't told her the entire story behind the death of her mother, and if Negan's being honest, he has no idea just how much this little girl needs to know.

He's never been more nervous trying to explain something.

Negan glances down at the doll in his hands. "Judy...do you remember your Daddy talking to you about your Mommy?" He's honestly banking on what Rick told him and intentionally being vague to avoid crossing any lines. He does at least know that Rick's told her about Lori before.

Judith's expression is wracked with curiosity. "Uh-huh. They were married, and then she died after I was born." Negan notices that the words don't seem hard for her to speak. He imagines it's a little hard to feel something for someone you never met. Either that, or Judith has had some time to process the information. She's a very smart little girl, so Negan doesn't doubt it.

"Yeah." Negan says. "Well, I was married once, too. And my wife died. Her name was Lucille."

It's almost like the universe keeps throwing Lucille at him, waiting to see how he handles the attack. This one feels significantly less like an attack, though, and Negan finds some relief in that realization.

"Oh..." Judith's eyes widen. "Do you miss her?"

Negan looks back to that day on the cruise ship, when he and Rick had talked about Lori and Lucille. How he had asked Rick about her, and he had _smiled_. It occurs to him as his own smile tugs at his lips just how contagious Rick's way of handling things is. "Yeah. A lot."

He looks over in time to see Judith smile, too. "...Daddy misses Mommy a lot. Is that why you two are together?"

For a five-year-old, Judith sure asks some mature questions. Negan finds himself a little astounded as he looks over at the girl. He's glad she worked up the gumption to show him her doll. "...I think that's a part of it. You know how you have to have land before you can build a house? Foundation?"

Judith nods.

"I think that's kind of a foundation for us. There's a lot more, and I'm with your Daddy for a lot more than that, but that's definitely a part of it. Your Daddy is something special. He knows me better than I know myself."

It occurs to Negan that he just spilled his guts to a five-year-old, but she doesn't seem to mind. She's still smiling at him. Absently, she starts fiddling with the sheets between them.

"Do you love my Daddy?"

Negan wonders if this is the last time he's going to question that thought. Is this the last time he's going to wonder if he and Rick are moving too quickly? Everyone else around him seems to be in support of it, as if they've seen something he can't. Even at the party last night, the others seemed eager to get the two men to have a good time together. Nobody questioned Negan, because somehow, they just knew.

And he'll be damned if Lucille isn't somehow pulling the strings here a little, too.

"Yeah." Negan decides. Saying it aloud feels surreal and cathartic, and Negan can almost feel stress and anxiety melting away. The realization's probably been there since day one, but Logical Negan has stood defiantly in the way, because he kept telling himself it was a shitty idea to throw everything away for some guy who just happened upon him in a cruise ship hallway--who he just happened to be six doors away from, who he just happened to want to spend his time with. He never once stopped to think that maybe 'everything' doesn't even exist, because 'everything' went away from him in that hospital bed all those years ago.

He wonders how Rick felt on that first day, when Negan had somehow convinced him to stay by his side in that stateroom. The second day, when he took him to the spa. How did he feel on the third day, on the sand in Progreso? The fourth, when they came together in that pool...

Negan sure remembers a lot of feelings...

"Like Flynn loves Rapunzel?" Judith adds, and Negan laughs.

"Does that mean I get to be Flynn?"

The little girl giggles. "You _have_ to be Flynn."

"Then _yes_." Negan reaches over to tickle her sides, chuckling as she starts cackling wildly. "I love your Daddy like Flynn loves Rapunzel."

\- - - - -

Judith's presentation hangs heavy in Negan's mind long after Carl and Rick get home. He and Rick eat their dinner in silence while Judith and Carl discuss her diorama. Negan has long-since decided that Carl is a phenomenal big brother. He appreciates that the elder sibling isn't outright telling Judith she can't make her assignment about cheerios, but instead telling her it's going to be more challenging than she expects. At present, he's throwing around ideas about what she could do, and her excitement level keeps escalating the more he talks. She's bound and determined to make her diorama about cheerios, and by George, she's gonna do it.

Negan finishes his plate and heads into the kitchen to rinse his dishes off. He hears Rick following him, and glances down at the other man when he joins him in front of the sink.

"So, I made some arrangements." Rick says, taking Negan's rinsed-off dish and handing him all the ones he's collected from the living room. He lowers each one as Negan cleans them off into the dishwasher. "Carl's spendin' the weekend with some friends, and he's gonna take Judy to stay with Glenn and Maggie here in a bit."

"Oh, yeah?" Negan recalls that he'd promised Rick body shots at some point, but he also has a feeling this has to do with a lot more than that.

"It's just you and me the next two nights, and then I'll take you back to Atlanta Sunday. Sound good?"

Negan washes his hands, then laughs and pulls Rick in for a much-needed hug. "Sounds fucking peachy. But one thing real quick." He makes his way to the fridge, and as he does so, he hears Judith's footsteps echoing into the kitchen. He turns around, covered bowl in his hands, just in time to see Rick seat himself on one of the barstools and pull Judith into his lap.

Negan places the bowl on the counter in front of them, just as Carl approaches and peers in on the scene. At the same time he opens it, he can see Rick's eyes flickering up to look at him.

"Jello." He observes aloud, to which Negan nods. "Blue jello--kinda figured that was what the spots were about."

Negan shrugs. "It sounds stupid as shit, but when I got here, I kinda wanted to do a little more than yell 'surprise' and be done with it, y'know?" He knows he's grinning like an idiot. "You said the water in Cozumel looked like blue jello, and since we met on the fucking ocean--"

"--Negan--"

"--Sorry. Since we met on the ocean, I kind of wanted to pay homage to it." And if he's being honest, the color of the jello really _does_ look like the water in Cozumel. Rick's observation from back then actually makes a lot of sense. "So here you have it--my shitty last-minute attempt at surprising you with something unique."

Rick laughs. "...It's unique, alright."

"This is the color of the ocean!?" Judith exclaims. "Wow! Daddy, you have to take me next time you go on a cruise!"

Another laugh, as Rick gives his daughter a hug. "Well, maybe. Haven't decided if I'm goin' again, yet."

It's just pushing seven when the kids leave, and Rick and Negan spend a few moments cleaning up before they allow themselves to have their time together. Negan finds he likes how domestic all of this is. He still remembers Rick talking about it on Tuesday, and he realizes he doesn't really care. How long has it been since he got to be like this with someone? And it helps how easily he's falling right back into the role.

Judith and Carl don't seem to mind so far, either. Maybe they've seen a side of Rick that Negan hasn't. And when he looks back on Maggie's threat for him having taken so long to get back with Rick, it doesn't seem so out of the question. What _is_ Rick like when Negan's away? Does he get lonely? How often does he remember Lori? Negan's been spending so long thinking about his own suffering and admiring Rick's strength that he hasn't yet taken into account how miserable Rick could be when it's just himself and the night.

He knows he promised Rick alcohol, but he thinks that now is a good time to talk about all of this. Before all the booze and all the fun. He wants Rick to know that this is real, and that means making damn sure the words he's about to say and the questions he's about to ask all sink in.

As Rick finishes up in the living room, Negan makes his way into the kitchen and grabs two cans of root beer. When he re-enters the living room, Rick has taken a seat on the couch. He grins and moves to stand behind him, leaning over and curling his arms around him from behind the couch. A slow, gentle kiss is pressed to the side of Rick's neck as he offers one of the sodas to the other man.

Rick laughs against the gesture, taking the proffered beverage. "You're thoughtful today."

"I'm thoughtful every day." Negan jokes, mocking offense, and then he pulls away and moves around the couch to take a seat next to the other man. "Or something like that."

Rick shrugs. "I'll keep you, thoughtful or not."

Negan raises an eyebrow. "That's a sappy-ass answer, Rick." Either way, he doesn't spend much time dwelling on it. Instead, he clears his throat. "But hey...I gotta question for you. Serious as fuck here, Rick."

Rick pauses for a moment, but eventually offers Negan a slow nod. "...What's wrong?"

"Well, uh..." No amount of mental debate on talking about it could ever serve to prepare Negan for the real thing. He hasn't exactly rehearsed it, but at present, he imagines that he could have prepared a speech and practiced it all day, and _still_ stumble around his words and forget how to speak in order when it comes to discussing the real thing.

"...How were you holding up before I called you for the first time?"

Negan figures he must've struck a chord, because Rick doesn't answer right away. He looks down at his lap, takes a drink of his root beer, and then places the can on the coffee table. When he looks back up at Negan, he still seems to be at a loss for words.

"What makes you ask that?"

"Well..." Negan sighs. "At risk of waxing fucking depressing here, let's just say there's a lot of people who seem to think you had a pretty hard time." He hesitates, trying to figure out the best way to put what he's trying to say into words. "Which is flattering as fuck, Rick, considering that means you missed the shit out of me--"

"--I told you I did." Rick lets out a breathy laugh.

"I know." Negan swallows. "But the thing I'm trying to get at here is that I fucked up doing that to you."

Apparently, his words sink in there, because Rick softens considerably. He looks down again, and when his gaze comes back up to meet Negan's, it's almost like they've gotten even _more_ blue.

Negan keeps talking. "I may have been trying to get my shit together during that time, but I also didn't do a lot of thinking about what sorting out you might have been doing. It was damn inconsiderate of me, and you're the last person I want to hurt like that."

Rick blinks, and Negan realizes he either doesn't expect an apology or doesn't understand why he's getting one. Maybe both.

"I know you weren't tryin' to hurt anyone, Negan." Rick looks like he's having a lot of trouble talking about this, and Negan appreciates him trying. He watches the other man card his fingers through his hair as he presumably thinks about what he's going to say. "I mean, I did wonder what was keepin' you, but we'd known each other for five days. It was tough, and I thought about it...you...a lot more than I wanted to, but it was safer to assume you'd moved on."

Negan's heart sinks. It's not like he wants to hear Rick say he dwelled all day, every day, on why Negan didn't text him back, but to hear that he'd chosen to take the strong route about it hurts, because it means that he'd at one point thought Negan had forgotten about him. It's no goddamn wonder he was so angry when Negan finally did get in touch with him.

"So when you called," Rick continues, and Negan notices he's worrying at his lower lip with his thumbnail, "I was real shocked. And then you called me Blue Eyes like you did during the cruise." Negan watches him swallow, and then when he continues speaking, his voice is heavier--more rough. "Even if I had moved on, hearing your voice like that would've sucked me right back in."

"...Rick..." Negan doesn't think the human body is supposed to traverse emotions this abruptly, but in an instant, he's gone from guilt to shock to fucking _infatuation_ , because if only there was a word to describe the way Rick is looking at him right now, or how Negan himself feels about what he's hearing.

"Besides, assumin' you moved on and being okay with it are two different things." Rick smiles. "If anything, the distance reminded me just how important you'd become to me." He almost looks embarrassed, and his expression kind of reminds Negan of how he felt when he'd shown off the blue jello concoction he'd come up with earlier. He scratches the side of his head. "So I spent those two weeks goin' back and forth between bein' disheartened that you hadn't texted me back and wonderin' how in the hell a guy ends up in love all of a sudden like that--how unfortunate it was that it was with a guy I was never gonna see again."

Negan can't remember the last time he felt this giddy. Probably when he proposed to Lucille and she actually said yes. That's kind of what this feels like, except the other way around. Rick's just professed his love to Negan, and all Negan wants to do right now is lean in and kiss the shit out of him.

"You connected me to Lucille, and that's what did it for me." Negan's sure Rick didn't intend to go off on a speech, but he's kind of happy the guy did. He looks so damned gorgeous right now, sitting next to Negan, scratching at the back of his neck, as he tries to find the right way to word things. And god, every word is hitting like a sandstorm.

He smiles up at Negan and then scoots in close. A hand rests on Negan's thigh as he speaks up once more. "I don't know if you see it, but everything you feel, you wear. It's like a hat or a jacket or a pair of shoes--everyone can see it. Judy knows it, and Carl knows it, and _I_ know it. I'm just waitin' for you to say it."

Negan wonders if he's that transparent, but it doesn't last long, because when he returns his focus to Rick, he realizes it's his turn to speak now. The words tumble out before he even has a chance to think about them.

"You want a love confession." He deadpans, and Rick just nods out his agreement. "You want me to drop my feelings on the table, right here. You want a confession, Rick? Fine, you'll fucking get one."

He finds himself unable to resist sweeping in closer, doing away with any distance he and Rick have left. He kisses the other man with every ounce of energy he can muster, with a softness he doesn't realize he possessed until now. His hands are on either side of Rick's face, and his breath grows shaky when he realizes Rick's leaning up into it.

He remembers the moment before Rick was about to leave on that goddamn bus. Their foreheads resting together, as they said their last words. He breaks the kiss to do so yet again.

"You are _everything._ " Negan confesses, his thumbs brushing the sides of Rick's face. "Simon sent me on that cruise because he thought I needed a break from my misery, and I thought he was being dramatic. How fucking wrong I was. You were there, and you grounded me. You pulled when I pushed. You made things _fun_ , and it wasn't because it was a fucking chore to you. You stayed around because you _wanted_ to."

He sits back. "And yeah, it was only five days. And yeah, I was a giant fucking prickface for taking so goddamned long to get back to you, but there wasn't a day I didn't think about you." Swallowing nervously, Negan steels himself. "Judith showed me her doll. She said you didn't want her to have it out while I was here because of the way it'd make me feel."

Rick looks guilty, and when he tries to turn his attention to his lap, Negan reaches out and tips his head up so he can look into those blue eyes again. "But as long as you're here, I'm okay. You showed me a way out, Rick. I don't have to forget Lucille to move on. _You_ showed me that. And words will _never_ fucking be enough to express how goddamned deeply I love you for it."

Even now, the fact that Negan has only known Rick for a handful of weeks hangs over him. This feels impossible and unrealistic and terrifying, as if Rick might be yanked right back out of Negan's grip once he gets comfortable with what's going on. But when he looks back on that cruise, and even on the first day of their time together, he takes some comfort in the fact that the way his stomach had flipped was not unlike it is now.

He remembers teasing Rick about being a big sap, but goddamn if he hasn't turned into one basically ever since he and Rick finally acted on their attraction to one another. Negan doesn't want to stop. He doesn't want this to end. As he leans in for another kiss, he acknowledges that he just _doesn't give a shit anymore_. That this is gonna look like whatever to whoever cares to observe it, but the only people who matter here are Rick, his family, and Negan.

And considering Rick's kissing back and pulling Negan atop him on the couch, it's pretty obvious he feels the same damned way about it.

They're both a little too big for the couch, but neither of them seem to mind. Whenever the clothes come off and they start moving too much, they just retreat to the floor. Rick takes the lead, lowering himself down onto Negan, and Negan spends the next several minutes half worshipping Rick's chest and abdomen and cock with his hands and half moaning and bucking up into Rick's body.

When Rick comes apart atop Negan, he can see everything. He watches the smaller man's back arch, sees his mouth fall open as he finishes right onto Negan's chest. And he also notices the way Rick looks down at him and doesn't let his eyes fall shut.

Negan finishes, and then everything stills. Rick sits there, still impaled on him, and works to catch his breath. His blue eyes seek out Negan's, and then he pulls off and leans down for a kiss. The two men break into husky, breathy laughter. Rick's forehead finds Negan's, and he smiles and laughs and caresses the sides of his face. Whispers little 'I love you's against his cheeks and forehead and jaw, and Negan wraps his arms around Rick's frame as he does so, holding him so tightly that it might look as if his life depends on it.

They shower together, and after Rick washes the water off of Negan's back, he sneaks a hug from behind and presses a kiss to the base of his neck. Negan leans back into it and closes his eyes, releasing a sigh. There's blue at the back of his eyelids, but it doesn't feel so far away anymore.

Despite their shower, they retreat to Rick's room with tequila and salt and limes in hand and crawl into Rick's bed. Negan instructs his very naked partner to lie down on his back, to which Rick obeys. Negan pops a lime slice into Rick's mouth.

"Hold that for me, Rick." He requests, kissing the corner of the other man's mouth, before he sprinkles salt up from Rick's navel to just below his chest. Tequila in hand, he smirks. "Close your eyes, baby. It's gonna make this so fucking exciting, you'll blow your load before we even get started."

Rick laughs around the lime in his mouth, but obeys. Even with his mouth full, Negan can see him smiling. He knows the guy's aching to tease him for talking about being sexy while saying something un-sexy. Too bad this time, Rick.

Either way, once Rick's eyes are shut, Negan does exactly as promised. He takes a shot of the tequila, then dips down. His hands find either of the other man's hips, as his tongue drags slowly, languidly up along the little trail of salt he left. He feels Rick tense, hears him inhale through his nose, and chuckles as he reaches the end of the salt trail.

As he presses teasing little kisses up along Rick's chest and neck, he lets his hands roam. By the time he's found the lime slice in Rick's mouth, they've gone from his sides to his abdomen, up to his chest, thumbs even daring to tease his nipples.

Negan spits the lime aside, and his tongue flicks out along Rick's lower lip. He likes the way Rick's mouth falls open, inviting him inside, and obliges without hesitation. He lets Rick taste the salt and lime and tequila on his tongue, and when he finally does pull away, Rick's blue eyes have fluttered open again. They're hazy, and his cheeks and ears are flushed.

"That..." Negan starts. "...Is a body shot."

Negan can literally see the 'whoa' in Rick's expression. The goosebumps have risen up on his skin, and Negan finds he wants to drag his tongue along them just as much as he had the tequila salt. But before he can, Rick speaks up.

"My turn."

Negan shrugs and passes the bottle to him. They shift a little until he's the one on his back and Rick is straddling him. He sprinkles a thin line up along Negan's stomach and chest with the salt, and then places it aside. Negan accepts an offered lime slice and pops it into his mouth. Like he had asked Rick to, he closes his eyes.

He hears Rick swallow the alcohol, and then seconds later, there is moisture and heat at the base of his stomach. He realizes in that moment just how low Rick had sprinkled that salt, and it damn near rips a moan up from his throat.

And then his tongue is fucking _everywhere_. Negan can tell Rick is enjoying himself with far more than just the idea of a body shot. Not that he minds. For a while, he wonders if Rick remembers he's in the middle of a body shot right now, but after approximately three seconds questioning it, he decides he really just doesn't give a shit.

Especially when Rick's tongue circles his navel and decides it's going to go down instead of up.

Naturally, Negan glances down at the other man, an eyebrow cocked. About that time, Rick's got his mouth roughly six inches below his belly button, so when he looks _up_ at Negan from so far down _low,_ he almost loses it on the spot. Hot damn, Rick Grimes, you are sexy as _shit_.

"If you spit that lime out, I'll bite." Rick warns, and Negan can tell he's positively devouring the muffled moan that escapes Negan's lips around that lime upon hearing his words.

Sometimes, Rick just comes loose with this fierce side. It's not the same as Lucille's wild streak, but it's so subtle that it wins Negan over every damned time. Be it stuffing napkins into Negan's mouth or shoving him into pool water or threatening to bite Negan's dick off, it's something that is so uniquely _Rick Grimes_ that Negan finds he can't get enough of it.

He's pulled out of his wandering thoughts when Rick's tongue grazes along one of his thighs, dangerously close to his groin. Negan can feel his cock twitching to life on the anticipation alone. The little chuckle that comes from Rick down below tells Negan he notices.

Rick never ceases to amaze. Out of the blue, he finds this fucking _perfect_ spot just next to the base of Negan's cock, and he starts sucking on it, and it's like he's got some sort of homing device for what makes Negan's toes curl just right, because the minute that perfect mouth starts going to town on that little patch of skin, Negan bucks up into the contact. It takes everything he has in him to avoid spitting that lime out and telling Rick exactly how amazing he is.

Rick grounds him by way of splaying his fingers out on Negans' pelvis and pushing down, effectively pinning his hips to the bed. Negan sighs pleasantly when Rick vacates that spot in favor of moving downward toward his dick. By now, he's almost at full attention, which makes it easier for Rick's lips and tongue to trail up along it.

Negan loves a lot of things about Rick. He's mentally waxed poetic more times than he can count on his fingers and toes, and he still catches himself doing it. But at present, that goddamned mouth is the subject of his affection. He can feel Rick's tongue swirling and flattening and exploring, and the friction as Rick bobs down almost effortlessly onto him, and he realizes it's a fucking challenge to keep the lime slice in his mouth as Rick had requested.

For a guy who's never done a body shot before, Rick's sure got it down to a fucking science. Or, well, whatever extracurricular bullshit he's been dreaming up at least.

Negan bites down on the lime slice, the sour tang of the juice inside a stark contrast from the immense pleasure Rick's got him experiencing. He knows he can't let go of the lime, but Rick never said anything against moving his hands, so not unexpectedly, he soon has his fingers balled tightly in the other man's hair.

Negan sees Rick look up at him, mouth full with his cock, and as some sort of 'punishment' for his tight grip on the guy's hair, Rick bears down all the way, and then as he bobs up again, he fucking _hums,_ and really, that's all it takes to send Negan soaring right over the edge.

He comes hard into Rick's mouth, hips stuttering upward as he does so, and even though he hasn't let go of the lime, he still moans like a motherfucker around it. His mind's still reeling from all the different sensations when Rick crawls back up along his body. His eyes flutter open just in time to see the other man swallow. Rick grins, leans down, and takes the lime slice away. He casts it aside and moves in to meet Negan's lips in a kiss.

Negan tastes lime juice and tequila and himself on Rick's tongue, and it's almost enough to get him going all over again. His body feels like it's on fire, and he swears he's trembling beneath Rick's body.

When the smaller man pulls back, Negan laughs breathily. "....You forgot the rest of the salt."

Rick just shrugs. "I wasn't done."

By that prediction, Negan assumes it's going to be one hell of a long night. Not that he minds.

\- - - - -

_"Baby..." Lucille's voice is raspy. Her throat's dry, but she doesn't want to drink. Negan's been staring out the window, trying to will himself to get some sleep, but the perpetual fear that his wife might disappear while he's out keeps him wide awake. He's going on three days, now..._

_Her voice pulls him back, though, and he turns in his chair to look at her. She gets grayer and grayer every time Negan looks at her. Doctors say it's not going to be long--fucking gave their condolences before it's even happened. Negan wants to beat the shit out of half of them for thinking they even know for a second what he and Lucille are going through, but he's afraid to leave his wife's side to do so._

_"Hey..." He answers, leaning in close. He drags his fingers down along her pallid face, kisses her sweaty forehead, and just smiles. "What's wrong?"_

_Lucille shakes her head, and Negan can tell that even that much movement takes effort. "Nothing. Just worried about you. You need to sleep."_

_"I'm fine." Negan responds. He feels the softness in his own smile--a softness he didn't realize he had until he learned he was going to lose his wife." I bet I could go a full week without sleeping a fucking second. Want to try me?"_

_Lucille laughs, and Negan hates seeing those tiny tears working their way down her cheeks. He wants to beg her not to cry--to preserve her water--but he gets it. She wants to go quickly. "You're such an asshole, Negan." She says, and Negan swears it's the sweetest thing she's ever told him. "Even now, trying to siphon a few more days out of me." Her hand is feverish as it moves up to rest on Negan's cheek. Her fingers tremble against his skin, and he turns to bury his face in her hand._

_He cries, but even around his hiccuping, he can hear Lucille's words loud and clear. Her wisdom and her acceptance and her fucking strength all amaze Negan so much that he cries harder._

_"You're going to be fine, baby." Her voice is so reassuring and powerful, even though she can't manage much in the vein of volume. "You're going to let me have this, and you are going to move on. You're going to find someone else and you're going to be happy, goddamn it. I love you so much. Don't you dare let me down."_

_Death isn't like the movies and storybooks make it out to be. There's no slowly, beautifully spoken last words. A dying person falls into a coma for a handful of days, and it's difficult to tell if they're suffering or not. It's not pretty. Lucille's face looks gray and sunken, and her chest rattles with every breath. She looks miserable, and after another day seeing her like that, Negan finds himself traversing past the desire to keep her alive and just hoping upon hope that she'll be able to rest soon._

_He spends days hoping the morphine is working, catching little glimpses of her eyes, and then talking to her while she sleeps. At some point, he manages to doze off. He isn't sure if it's just minutes or entire hours, but there's a moment of clarity that tears him clean out of his slumber and has him sitting bolt upright in his chair._

_Lucille is about to take her last breath._

_Negan sweeps in, catches her hand, and kisses it softly. Cue the waterworks. He doesn't know if she can hear him or not, but as she fades away, he takes the time to tell her what he probably should have fucking days ago._

_"I need you to know that you are **everything** to me..."_

_\- - - - -_

Consciousness strikes like a tidal wave, and Negan comes to his senses with the impact. In a gasp for breath, he snaps awake and finds himself staring up at Rick's ceiling. He doesn't remember how he got onto his back, since he's usually balled tightly up in a bedful of Rick Grimes, but here he is.

Negan turns to face Rick, who his still fast asleep on his side. God, he looks so serene right now. Serene and somehow so vibrant at the same time. Peaceful. Perfect.

This is what Lucille wanted for him. This happiness, and this chance at life with a family. She wanted Negan to be able to turn over in bed and pull Rick close and never have to worry about him slipping away.

The emotion that bubbles up is beyond Negan's control, and before he knows what he's doing, he reaches out and cups the side of Rick's face.

"Rick...Rick...wake the fuck up, please..."

It doesn't take much to bring Rick back to consciousness. Sleepily, he places a hand on the one on the side of his face. "...What time is it...?"

Negan must look like shit, because out of the blue, Rick freezes and all the sleep fades from his expression. He sweeps Negan's hand away and pushes himself up onto his elbow. "Negan, are you cryin'...? What's wrong?"

It's like Rick knows exactly what to do. As Negan swoops in on him, Rick pushes himself into a sitting position and just pulls him into his arms. And Negan melts into those arms. He's hugging Rick as tightly as he can manage, clinging for dear life, as he sobs pathetically into the other man's shoulder.

As he pulls back, his eyes and cheeks and face wet with tears, he swallows a lump of emotion back down into his throat. It comes right back up, though, and in a choked sob, he finally manages to explain himself.

"...She's gone. Lucille is gone..."

Rick throws his arms around Negan and pulls him in close again.

This sucks. It's painful and embarrassing for Negan to be holding onto Rick like this, but here he is. He cries until his throat and chest and eyes hurt, and Rick just _lets_ him. And with it comes a twisted sort of comfort.

She really is gone this time. Negan hasn't forgotten her, and he never will, but he somehow knows that his doubts and his fears and his misery over having lost her are actually ebbing away. He's always been aware of the fact that Lucille wouldn't want him to suffer--she'd said it herself. But while Negan can be strong in his own way, most of the emotional strength he possesses is founded within others. Lucille, Simon...Rick.

Negan pulls back, and Rick is brushing tears away and kissing his cheeks and his forehead and his lips. He's being so soft and meaningful and understanding.

"I let her go." The words escape Negan's lips as more of a realization than anything, and he finds it's easier to stop crying once he says them. He closes his eyes and thinks back to the pool water on the cruise ship. How it swirled and danced around him, tugging and swishing at his clothes, until it eventually swallowed him whole. How he'd allowed himself to sink, and Rick had been the one to pull him out. How fresh the air had tasted once he'd resurfaced. How warm Rick's smile had been.

"You still have her." Rick reminds, and Negan likes the way his fingers are trailing through his hair right now in soothing little brushes. "You've got the memory of her. You've got me, too."

Negan's initial thought is to wonder how he's supposed to have Rick from halfway across the country, but then, the overwhelming realization that he has to make being with this guy on a permanent basis a thing hits him so hard that it steals the words right from his lips. Instead of questioning any of it, Negan just decides he's going to have a future with this guy and his family, and he just laughs a tired laugh.

"Yeah."

\- - - - -

In the end, Judith and Carl decide they want to go with Rick to see Negan off, so after a much-needed Saturday morning and afternoon together, the two men bring the kids back home and they all resume their act of relaxation. Carl and Judith are snuggled together on the armchair while Rick and Negan sprawl out and proceed to pass out atop one another halfway through the third movie.

In the morning, Judith wakes Negan and Rick up with a series of cheers and 'c'mon's that alerts them that it's time to get around. The girl is a big help in Negan packing his things, but demands that he keep at least one outfit here--that it gives him something to come back to. He wants to tell her he already has plenty, but he instead just kisses the top of her head and tells her she's something else.

The car ride to Atlanta starts with Judith singing the entire Frozen soundtrack word-for-word from a CD her dad has in the car, and then progresses to she and Negan playing a fast-paced game of "I Spy" that neither of them are really winning at because Rick's car goes too fast for them to find whatever is being 'spied' before it's out of sight completely. By the last hour, Judith is passed out in her seat and Carl and Negan are competing against one another in a heated game of pool, courtesy of their phones.

They arrive at the airport in time for a quick meal, and then, with a half hour to spare, it's time for Negan to get to the terminal.

It's while Carl is pointing out all the planes in the massive panoramic windows to Judith that Rick and Negan take a moment for themselves. As they watch Judith make a beeline for one of the windows, Carl in tow, Rick slides right on up and moves to stand in front of Negan. His eyes are blue...so blue.

"The last time Judy flew," he starts, sounding almost sheepish, "she wasn't old enough to remember it. Maybe one day, she can get in one of those planes and we can come and see you."

Negan sighs. "I'm not going anywhere." He scratches the back of his head and looks down as Rick fiddles with the front of his shirt. "I mean, I am, but I'm gonna come right the fuck back...if you'll have me."

The frown on Rick's face is downright comical. "Do you even have to ask?"

Negan shrugs. "It's the right thing to do."

Rick's hands slide down from Negan's shirt and move around his waist, pulling him in closer. He looks like he trusts what's being said to him, but he's still leery and wistful all at the same time. Their eyes meet, and Rick sighs. "...When do you plan on comin' back?" His voice is so incredibly soft that Negan for once feels like he has more strength than Rick. Which is saying a lot.

Negan can't stop himself from leaning in for another kiss. "Just as soon as I can, babe..." He pulls back, a grin pulling at his lips. "Do I get to call you that, yet?"

When Rick shoves him, he laughs. "Stop askin' stupid questions. You know the answer's yes, Negan."

And then they both laugh together. As an announcement for Negan's terminal preparing to start boarding, a discomfort not unlike being smothered by a blanket suddenly washes over the entire scene. Carl and Judith move to rejoin Negan's side, and Judith throws her arms around his waist. She cries, and Carl swoops in and gives Negan a one-armed hug from the side. He hugs them both back, and then crouches in front of Judith.

"Hey, now." He says, prodding her forehead. "You stop that. You get me all lachrymose before I get on the plane and my head might explode from the sinus pressure. You don't want that shit, now do you?"

Judith giggles. "Your head's not gonna explode, Negan."

Negan hugs her again, and then kisses her forehead. "Be good for your dad. And tell Lucille I said 'hi', okay?"

She nods, and then accepts one last quick hug before she and Carl back away. Negan stands up and grabs his bags. He smiles to Rick, who gives him a wave, and then starts toward his terminal.

"Negan!"

Negan wheels around, alarmed by the urgency in Rick's voice, and finds himself suddenly and abruptly greeted to Rick's mouth on his own and his arms thrown tightly around his neck. He drops his bags without thinking and pulls Rick's body tightly against his own, and they take a good handful of seconds to live in that embrace.

When Rick lets go, he narrows his eyes up at Negan's. " _Don't_ take your sweet time gettin' back to me this time, alright?"

Negan just smiles and drops down to recollect his luggage. "Don't think I could if I tried."

And then he's off. His chest is tight and his stomach heavy, but there's a sense of optimism lingering in there, too. Negan knows that the instant he gets home, hes' going to be talking to Simon about this and starting to make plans for future visits and the inevitable move-in. It's going to be a big hairy fucking mess, but it's going to be so worth it.

And he knows Lucille is sitting somewhere in whatever fucking realm dead people actually go to just sighing and groaning, " _Fucking finally..._ "

When Negan thinks of Lucille, he thinks of Rick. So once he finds his seat on the plane, he pulls out his phone and opens up a message for Blue Eyes in his contacts.

_"miss you already."_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading this monster of a fic. I can't even begin to put into words how much I appreciate each and every one of you. Kudos, comments, bookmarks, hits...just seeing that y'all are enjoying this thing enough to give it the time of day makes mine so much better.
> 
> After this chapter comes an epilogue, and then we're done! I love you guys!


	9. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little glance ahead to see how Negan and Rick are doing a year in the future.

"You're not gonna puke again, are you?"

Rick's got that shit-eating grin on his face as he drops his bags onto the floor, and when Negan frowns down at him, he simply shrugs, before moving further into the room.

This one is far larger than the balcony stateroom Negan had a year ago. The suite has an actual living room, bathroom with a bathtub, and a widespread balcony that circles much of the outline of their suite.

The decision to go on another cruise was a mutual one. It's been a year since Negan paid Rick that surprise visit to Georgia, and the two men have officially managed to get him moved in there. As a sort of housewarming celebration, they pooled together some funds and arranged for another cruise.

This time, the kids are with them, and Rick and Negan have managed to drag Simon, Beth, Maggie, and Glenn with them. It's just Rick, Negan, Judith, and Carl in the suite, though.

Judith and Carl are exploring their room, while Rick and Negan settle into their own. The master bedroom has its own stretch of balcony. At present, said balcony just overlooks the docks in Galveston, but in a handful of hours, it'll soon be soaring over nothing but wide open ocean.

"Fuck you, Rick." Negan retorts, shoving his boyfriend, who just laughs and moves to plop down onto the side of the bed. "Judith helped me put on my patch an hour before we boarded, so we should be good."

Negan's move to Georgia isn't the only thing to celebrate. Judith is officially in second grade, and Carl's been kicking ass in college in a neighboring town. It's been a good year, and Negan's only regret is that he hasn't been there to celebrate it all.

Rick and his children welcomed Negan into their family with open arms. To this day, Negan isn't certain if it was because they saw the way their dad felt or if it was because they themselves saw a lot of potential in Negan, but here he is. And he belongs here. Rick and his family make damn sure to make that known every single day.

The ship they're on isn't the same one they took a year ago, but the layout is essentially the same. There's still a Lido deck and a Promenade deck, and the staterooms are all laid out about the same. Negan already knows where Simon and the others' staterooms are. There's still a casino, several bars, and hangouts for children. There are activities for Judith that she can attend, and Beth has already volunteered to take her on some of them (she promises so that Rick and Negan can enjoy a night or two together, but Negan knows by now that she's got quite a soft spot for children and likes the activities and atmosphere as much as they do).

"Do you think we should go watch the boat leave on Lido?" Rick questions.

If Negan's being honest, he kind of wants to stay right here in their suite and watch from their balcony, but he knows that Judith and Carl are going to want to see all the excitement that occurs right as the ship departs. Line dances, food, contests, it's all bound to promise them a fantastic first night aboard yet another cruise ship. Besides, the others are no doubt awaiting them up there.

"Probably not a bad idea. Judith's going to lose her fucking mind when she hears the horn blow." Negan remembers that sound too, even though the last time he'd heard it, he'd been doubled over on the railing with seasickness. Now, not so much. All the more reason to get their asses up their and enjoy the scenery. Negan guesses he sort of missed the whole embarkation part because of his stomach anyway, so this experience might be kind of new to him.

"Yeah." Rick laughs, and as Negan flops down onto his back on one side of the bed, he lies down flat, reaching over to take the other man's hand into his own. "This is gonna be a blast."

Silence falls over the room as both men find themselves lost in thought. Negan isn't sure what Rick's thinking, but he himself is doing a shit ton of reminiscing. This isn't the same cruise, but it's still nostalgic. When Negan closes his eyes, he can see it in his head, almost like an old home movie: meeting Rick in that hallway and hurling right in front of him, taking him out drinking and almost getting a dance out of him, the spa, the formal dinner, wrestling with him in Progreso, holding hands in Cozumel...the pool water. Blue, so much blue.

Negan feels immense relief that Lucille had given him her blessing before she'd passed away. Even though she probably didn't realize who it would be with, she somehow knew that Negan would eventually find solace in someone else. And she had been okay with it. She had always been so selfless.

Not unlike Rick, here. Following Negan into his own stateroom because he needed someone to keep him company while he waited for seasickness to pass, joining him for drinks, staying around all that time, and then opening his doors to Negan when he had just broken into them.

Negan's methods are never the most graceful, and yet Rick's accepted them with open arms. He seems to embrace Negan's abrasiveness and vulgarity, and while Negan spends a great deal of time wondering what it is about him Rick loves, he very clearly _does_ love him.

"You ever imagine we'd end up here again?" Negan wonders aloud.

Rick chuckles, and turns his head to shoot Negan a soft smile. "I planned on it. Ever since Judy mentioned she wanted to go on one. I got a lot to be proud of." Negan feels Rick squeeze his hand. "My kids deserve this, and so do we."

"Yeah, we do." Negan turns and presses his lips to Rick's, just as their door bursts open and Judith comes bounding across the room and onto the bed. As she hops in between the two men, Carl follows suit inside.

"Let's go see the water!" Judith chirps, still bouncing. Negan gently pulls her down into a sitting position between himself and Rick.

"We're gonna go out on deck, but the water won't be that blue until later, okay?"

Judith cocks her head. "How come?"

"Because the water is blue in some spots and darker in others." Rick answers with a smile. "You'll get to see it, Judy--I promise."

"I tried to tell her." Carl laughs.

At that point, the group decides it's time to head out onto the deck. The ship has started up, kicking up dirt in the water beneath it, but has yet to take off. It takes some searching, but Negan and the others eventually find the rest of their passengers at the back end of the ship. Maggie and Glenn are standing together, while Beth waves to people on the docks below, and Simon chugs away at a bottle of water.

"About time." Simon teases, and he and Negan share a quick hug, before turning out to look at the water. He's invited his friend along, but he hasn't really gotten to visit with him since they boarded the ship. So once Rick and the children take their spot next to the others, he and Simon find a nearby spot together. The ship starts to turn, about to leave the dock.

"Shut your mouth." Negan rolls his eyes. "The suite we got is fucking amazing--had to enjoy it for a minute."

"I'm sure you did." Simon teases, before Negan elbows him. Despite that, the smaller man continues speaking. "How's Georgia?"

Negan shrugs. "Haven't been there long enough to tell yet, but I didn't go there for the scenery."

"I know." Simon rolls his eyes. "What's it like living the family life?"

Negan wants to go all sentimental and tell his friend that it's perfect, and it feels like he's always been there, but he's frankly been doing that enough lately, so he decides to condense it down instead. "Love the shit out of it. Got a job, too."

"Oh, yeah?" Simon raises an eyebrow. "Phys Ed again?"

"Nope." Negan answers. "You're looking at King County's best fucking car salesman."

When Simon bursts into laughter, Negan can't stop himself from shoving him. Simon just takes a swig of his water, stifling the remaining giggles. "Honestly, it's perfect for you. You can be pretty convincing."

"Damn straight, I can." Negan smirks. But then, he falls silent. "You know, you can come visit--or just cart your happy ass over there too and help me turn that car dealership into a fucking car empire."

He isn't actually expecting anything in the affirmative, but when Simon mirrors his smirk and throws an arm around his shoulders, he's pleasantly surprised. "Maybe one day. Hasn't been long, but it's weird as shit without you."

Well no shit, Simon. Negan feels it, too. They've been best friends for so long, and even though Negan's at home in King County with Rick and his family and friends, Simon is still such a huge part of his life that it really sucks when his friend doesn't pop up to pester him or surprise him with hot coffee and microwave dinners.

"Sorry." Negan says, which is something he hasn't told his friend yet.

Simon doesn't seem offended, though. He just smiles at Negan and shakes his head. "Don't start with that shit, Negan. You're happy, and that's all that matters. I'd rather see you every now and then with that big dopey heart-eyes look on your face than run into you every day and see you all depressed like you were."

"Was I that damn bad?" Negan raises an eyebrow.

"Well, probably not _that_ bad." Simon answers. "But my exaggerated complaining got you on this ship and got you a boyfriend, so you're welcome."

Fair enough. Negan just rolls his shoulders and gives his friend a side-hug back. He's about to keep speaking, but the ship's horn suddenly roars above them, so he quickly turns to watch as the boat picks up speed and coasts along past the docks.

Music starts up almost instantly. Negan claps Simon on the back, then goes to find Rick, Judith, and Carl. Judith is just barely tall enough to see over the rail, but she can see the way the ship moves, and she's an exploding firework of excitement as a result. Rick and Carl are both just grinning down at her as she fizzes like soda pop.

"Miss me?" Negan slides an arm around Rick's waist, kissing his temple.

"Somethin' like that." Rick answers.

Soon enough, the ship is well on its way, so everyone heads toward the other side of Lido deck, where the party has already begun. Not unlike the last time, the DJ seems to be starting it up with line dances. Carl leads Judith out onto the floor with him during the Electric Slide. Rick turns to face Negan, and he can tell in the other man's expression that he's wondering if they should go, too.

Negan just shakes his head and jogs out to join them.

This cruise means so much more than just a vacation. It marks the start of something entirely new. Rick has made it clear that Negan's going to be staying, and Negan has no intention to leave. He's fully prepared for a life engulfed in all that blue he's grown so fond of. And as excited as he is to enjoy himself on this ship, he's also looking forward to what comes after.

To think it all started here.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, I managed to make an epilogue short, like it's intended. I didn't have much planned for this, to be honest. Just wanted to show that our boys were doing alright, and that they did get their happily ever after. c:
> 
> This work has honestly been a rollercoaster for me. What started with a little inspiration from one of sinners0prayer's works (with permission, of course) and an attempt at creating something fluffy and cute has blossomed into its own story entirely. I never expected to get this invested in this fic, but here I am. It's sad to see it go.
> 
> This is the longest fanfiction I have ever written, and I poured my heart into every single chapter. Some of the parts were inspired by things in my personal life, and others were just dreamed up. 
> 
> I just want to thank you all so much for giving this fic the time of day. It's your reception of this work that has kept it going, and I've shed many a tear over the positive response to it. Thank you all so, so much. I love you guys.


End file.
